In The Mouth Of The Rat
by Tidia
Summary: Brotherhood AU. While Sam is away at college Dean and Caleb find themselves in Florida.  Dean is dealing with a prickly Caleb and they both could be over their heads.
1. Chapter 1

In The Mouth Of The Rat

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Kripke. Thank you to Ridley C. James for creating The Brotherhood Universe

Notes: Well, I had an up and down week, but I hope to have the weekend end better than it started. So, Ridley loves this fic (I sent her 'fixes' when she needed them), and I am posting even though it is not completely finished. If I don't then I will be too far behind, and I have a holiday fic planned. All mistakes are my own.

Also, don't forget to send your cards for the Brotherhood Campaign. You can find information at www (dot) thehunterstomb (dot) com

Part 1

Boca Raton, Florida

(Boca Raton means mouth of the rat)

Dean went up the two flights of stairs to get away from the arguing below. However, Caleb and John's voices reverberated through the plaster walls. He placed his duffle on the bed and looked out the sliding glass window to the ocean outside. Not much could be seen in the inky darkness except for a few beacon lights in the distance. But the twenty-four year old could smell the salt air and hear the crashing waves. It didn't drown out the yelling from the first floor. He returned to his seat at the top of the stairs.

"You set me up!" Reaves yelled at John, pacing like a caged animal.

"No, I didn't." Winchester bit back. "This other job just came up."

"John! A fucking house on the beach!" Caleb raked a hand through his hair. "I don't want to be here."

John put his hands out to try to placate the younger man. "Once you get to talk to me like that Caleb. Calm down."

The psychic took in a ragged breath, and exhaled slowly. "You said one, two days tops. . ."

"And it will be."

Dean had driven with the other hunter, but hadn't provided enough of a distraction. Caleb waited outside for fifteen minutes before stepping through the door.

"You did the research and the trail ends here."

"It fell into my lap." Caleb mumbled.

Dean had heard the story how Reaves noticed an article about a woman whose husband left her for someone he had met online. She was trying to find him to serve him with divorce papers. Then this woman found other women in the same situation. Seems as though the men involved all used the same website-The Dollhouse. Caleb thought it was a strange coincidence. He signed up at the website and began to communicate with Eleni, painting a desperate picture of being involved in a loveless marriage. Caleb had to admit he could see how men fell for these women. Although he kept suggesting they meet, Eleni did not seemed so inclined, but finally she agreed. Caleb was going to send someone else, beg off due to work commitments, but then a body was found on the local Boca Raton beach. It was of an old man, not uncommon in sunny Southern Florida. However, this man's fingerprints belonged to Ronald Byrne of Deluth, Minnesota who was 31 years old.

And Mr. Byrne's wife had wanted to serve him with divorce papers.

Caleb mentioned it to John who thought they should personally see to the case. Dean didn't question the decision, wondering if his father was making this a sick training exercise to have Caleb get over his water phobia.

John huffed. Dean knew his father was no longer going to be indulgent. "Bobby needs my help."

Reaves stuffed his hands in his jean pockets. "Then I'll go work with Bobby and you and Deuce can work this job."

"You took the lead on this!" John stepped into the psychic's personal space. "Reaves. Suck. It. Up."

Dean heard that comment and knew there would be an inevitable blowout. He didn't want to be trapped in the middle. It was June in Florida and they were on a house on the beach in a town called Deerfield Beach. The house was something out of Miami Vice, and belonged to one of Mac's friends who used the home to get away from New York winters. It was stucco, three levels with balconies facing out to the ocean. Dean went out the sliding glass door and down the backstairs off the balcony, away from the stucco building.

To the right were two lively, well lit bars and further down was a pier. To the left were a darkened beach and a strip of large condominium buildings. He chose to go away from the liveliness, his sneakers sinking in the sand, and a warm wind sticking his t-shirt against his skin.

Dean enjoyed the quietness of the beach. At the end of the shoreline he saw there was a rock jetty. He would walk out to it, and then back. Hopefully, the argument between John and Caleb would be over. He had been the middleman in too many arguments.

He wondered what his little brother was doing on his summer vacation. If Sam missed him or even thought about his older brother? He made it halfway to his destination when he heard a splashing sound.

The humidity in the air, and the clouds covering the moon made it difficult to make out anything in the water. The condominium buildings were not lit, most of the occupants unable to stand the Florida summer heat and returned to their northern climates for the season.

The hunter walked closer to the ocean, and saw a woman exit the water, completely nude. Dean was dumbstruck. He could make out her entire, incredible body. She smiled at him.

"You're standing on my towel."

Dean looked down, and saw the blue and white striped towel. He took two steps back, bent down and handed it to her.

She was brazen in her immodesty, taking the towel and putting it behind her back before tying it in a knot in the front, between her breasts. She walked forward, taking her fingers and brushing them along his clavicle. "I hope I didn't scare you."

He took a few steps forward to follow her. "I don't scare that easily."

She laughed a throaty chuckle. "I like you."

"I like you too." He wanted to continue the evening. She would make him forget all about the Caleb, Dad and Sam. "I'm Dean."

"Airlea," she purred back. She put her hand up to cease his movement forward. "Perhaps I'll see you again."

He shrugged his shoulders; evidently he was not going to be lucky tonight. "Night." He finished his walk out towards the jetty in solitary thought.

When he returned, the house was quiet. He went up through the back entrance, opening the sliding door. Immediately, he felt the briskness of the air conditioner.

He heard noise from the room across the hall. He walked in and saw Caleb at the desk, on the desktop computer with a scowl on his face.

"Hey man, you doing okay?" Dean said, greeting the older hunter. He wasn't going to share his intimate moment at the beach with Caleb since the dark haired hunter seemed truly frazzled.

"No, I'm not." Caleb gestured at the computer screen. "Your father is bailing on us."

"Yeah, I heard." Dean took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs that faced the desk. The room was set up as a home office. Dean wanted to help his friend, knew how hard it was for Caleb to be near the ocean without being overwhelmed by the death of his parents. Sounds and smells made him relive the moment in his mind. Dean understood. The smell of vanilla or a certain perfume reminded him of his mother. "Look Caleb, I'll handle this one myself-no big deal." Dean figured he would let his father drive away, then handle the hunt alone and meet up with Reaves later.

Reaves frowned at the younger man. "We don't hunt alone. You know that." He gave a tight grin, appreciating the gesture. "I'll get over it."

Dean sighed. He would be left dealing with a prickly Caleb. "I put your stuff in the bedroom next door, away from the water."

"It's the sound. It's everywhere and the smell. . ." The psychic raked a hand through his hair. "I hate the beach."

"I know." Dean remembered the story of how Caleb's parents died. How they had a house, Caleb's father had built it, and apparently it looked like a murder suicide when actually there was demon involvement. Six year old Reaves witnessed it all through the slightly ajar closet door. "I gotta go and talk to Dad."

"You going to whine about me, Deuce?"

"Only if you keep acting like a girl, Damien."

Caleb snorted, and returned to the computer screen. "I wish."

Dean left, and heard Caleb opening the windows and pulling the hurricane shutters closed. It would plunge the room in darkness, but also muffle the sound somewhat.

The young hunter looked back, wondering if he should leave his friend alone. But Reaves wanted some space, and tomorrow Dean would provide as much distraction as possible.

John was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a map. He looked up when he saw his son. "I'm outta here in the morning."

"Yeah, Dad, about that." Dean licked his lips, tentative to admonish his father. "You know how Caleb feels. . ."

The elder Winchester cut off his son's statement. "Dean, sometimes we all have to do things we don't want to do. Part of the job."

His father had shutdown any further conversation, and Dean didn't want to be the next person under attack. "Yeah, right." Dean went to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. "We'll meet up with you at Pastor Jim's?"

"Yep," John answered, not looking up.

Dean raised his bottle of beer to his father. "Be safe." He returned upstairs, intending to call it a night and get some sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: In the Mouth of the Rat

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: Ever the same

A/N: thank you all the reviews. I appreciate each one. I am also honored, as I know Ridley is, about the special comments and suggestions we get. Readers want these Brotherhood fics to be better, and that is incredibly cool. We think about everything, but have to balance it with the fact that we have other full time jobs and family obligations. **Also dont forget to send your brother cards and to encourage others to pass the word.** **Information can be found at thehunterstomb (dot) com. **All mistakes are my own here, and just a reminder-- setting is Boca Raton, FL, Sam is at Stanford. John has just left Dean and Caleb to handle a case, and Caleb is having a bit of a meltdown.

Part 2

The house was special. Daddy had made it with love. The rear of the house had big windows to see the ocean. The windows were always open, allowing the sea breeze to stir through the house, and leave its aromatic saltiness. At night, Caleb could hear the waves lapping, and the wind echoing as it came into contact with the house.

He was in the closet, the door slightly open. His mother didn't like it closed all the way, just in case. She was painting, sitting on a stool, her back to him. His father walked in, but he was different. Yelling at his mother and Caleb wanted to intervene, to ask why his father was being mean.

Then his mother fell to the floor with blood all over her body. Caleb's voice strangled in his throat, unable to utter a sound. Then finally he called out.

"Daddy?"

Isaac turned, his lips thinned out into a smile and then he put a gun to his head.

"Daddy!"

Caleb sat up in bed, bleary eyed. He looked around the buff colored room, and down at the white sheets. His senses kicked in, the salt smell, and the sound of sea gulls. He groaned, recalling their location. He shifted his legs off the bed. He could do this. Caleb could blot out, compartmentalize his memories of his parents and do the job. There was a bathroom in his room, and he took his time taking a shower, not even looking at the clock. It didn't matter what time it was, most of their job was done at night. He was going to have to make some phone calls and check on Tri Corp.

He ambled down the wood suspended staircase. Mac's friend had modern taste in decorating. For once he was thankful there was no art adorning the wall. The furnishings were sparse, and so even his sneakers made noise as he went down the stairs. "How long have you been up?

Dean was seated at the kitchen table with USA Today in front of him. He put the paper down to reveal two cups of coffee. "Good morning, Sunshine." The younger hunter pushed the cup towards one of the empty chairs. "Did you get some sleep?"

"Some." Caleb opened the lid, and took a gulp of the milky, warm coffee.

"Right." Dean folded up the newspaper. He looked at his watch. "I had enough time to go for a run on the beach, meet Cara from the coffee place next door, and take a shower."

Reaves noticed the younger hunter had gained some color to his skin. At least the beach agreed with someone.

"Let's get moving, Deuce." The further away from the house they could be, the better. And they could go out for a hearty breakfast, or early lunch. It didn't make a difference.

Dean shrugged. "So Dad said you were calling the shots."

Caleb coughed, choking on the coffee just as he was thinking about offering to take Dean out for breakfast. "He said that?"

Dean laughed, knocking his fist against the table. "No, not really, man you just got a little too excited."

Reaves frowned, then snorted. "When a Winchester says they are actually going to listen to someone other than their own little, stubborn voice, I take notice."

"Funny." Dean stood up. "So are you taking me out for breakfast?"

"What are you the psychic now?" Caleb finished off the coffee, took the cup, set himself up and threw it into the sink for what would have been a three point shot in basketball.

"No, I saw a sign for Cracker Barrel at a bus stop near where I went to get the coffee." Dean grinned and gestured out the window to a place across the street.

Caleb had left the Jeep at the airport, and had to wonder if it was all part of John's plan. Dean adeptly maneuvered the Impala through the summer, beach going traffic to the homey Cracker Barrel. The store/dining establishment was a hunter's best friend; the only thing lacking was alcohol. Biscuits with butter and a country style breakfast helped Reaves's attitude.

Dean patted his stomach, and gulped the last of his Coke.

"I was thinking we should check out The Dollhouse." Caleb crumpled his paper napkin. "I really want to meet Eleni." It was odd, carrying on a pseudo relationship with someone on the internet who he had never met. He had created a whole persona, a loveless marriage, a home in the Midwest in order to speak to this woman.

"When she turns out to be a 60 year old woman with a pack a day habit, I am so going to laugh."

Caleb had written out the address to The Dollhouse. It was in Boca Raton, which was strange. The town itself screamed money from the high rise condominiums on the beachfront to the mansions on the Intercoastal with yachts parked in the back of the home. But, there was a seedy side, just a strip really with The Dollhouse and some other rundown establishments. They would soon be gone with strip malls filled with Bed and Bath and Target taking their place.

"There's the Dollhouse." Caleb pointed out. The parking lot was bare. Dean slowed down, and went further down the road, parking at a busy establishment.

"So, looks like we're going to break into a strip club." Dean gave a satisfied sigh.

"It's like VH-1 behind the scenes." Caleb smiled, believing this was the first time that a hunting job had led him to working in this type of establishment. And they were going to enjoy it.

They made their way to the Dollhouse, going to the rear exit with Caleb covering, Dean easily picked the lock. They didn't want to leave any evidence of their visit.

Any place which did business in the evening hours never looked good in the light of day. It felt cheap. Plywood painted in dark colors of black and purple were used to make benches, table tops and booths. The stage was in the center of the room, and looking up; Caleb saw the exposed ceiling with intricate lighting.

The cushions on the chair were well worn purple velvet. As an architect, the place was disdainful. As a customer, he really wouldn't care either.

"What are we looking for?" Dean asked, taking in the atmosphere.

"Just a lay of the land. It all leads here." Caleb had traced Eleni after numerous emails and a phone conversation. She had promised him the world-love, sex, sex in interesting positions. All he had to do was leave his make believe wife and go to her. He was very lucky no one could read his mind.

"They got poles, and cages." Dean got up on the stage and leaned his head against the pole. "Man, this is going to be a great gig."

"We'll have to do some recon tonight." Caleb went behind the bar, seeing if he could find anything incriminating.

"Could involve a lap dance," Dean commented as he opened the curtain.

"It just could." Caleb knew he would have to be very vague about this hunt if his father ever asked him.

Dean gestured he was going backstage. Caleb saw the office door, and made his way there. He tested the knob, and it was locked. He took out his tools, and heard the welcoming click.

There were three desks with a computer on each desk. Caleb didn't turn on a light, but pulled out his flashlight. Immediately, he noticed there were no personal objects—no photos of any sort to let anyone know who the desk owners happened to be.

There was a scent of perfume, so he assumed it was only women working in the office. He rifled through the desks, but only found paperwork pertaining to The Dollhouse itself.

Dean knocked on the door before letting himself in. "Find anything?"

"No, you?" Caleb retorted, and walked out the open door; Dean shut the door and followed.

"Nada." Dean let his hand skim the stage. "Looking forward to really getting into this case."


	3. Chapter 3

Title: In The Mouth of the Rat

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: see part 1

Notes: Since we gained an hour I stayed up late to beta this part, any other mistakes are due to tiredness. But I had a great week. Shout out to Jo! So, getting deeper into the story now...

Part 3

Hunting was a gig with lots of downtime. Sam pursued his education, Dean used to pursue money to supplement what their dad brought in so they could have a roof over their head and food in their bellies. Sometimes in his own time he would work on his projects, not women or weapons, but fixing things and figuring how they worked.

"What the hell are you doing, Deuce?" Caleb walked in the door with bags of groceries from the nearby Publix.

Dean glanced at his watch. A supermarket run did not take two hours, but Dean wouldn't press the issue. Everyone had their internal demons. Dean learned that providing a presence, yet giving space was sufficient. Dean and Caleb understood each other; there was no need to be overbearing or hypersensitive.

The shell casings, paper and rock salt were on a table before him. He started to put it all away without explanation.

Caleb halted him, picking up some rock salt granules. "What is all this?"

"Don't you feel like an idiot when you throw rock salt at a Casper? It's weak, man." Dean had proposed sling shots as one possible solution, but he thought there had to be something better. "I'm surprised they don't laugh at us."

The psychic moved his shoulders back, and straightened. "No one laughs at Caleb Reaves."

"You keep telling yourself that," Dean said with an uninhibited chuckle . He continued to put all the items away in a shoe box to work on another time.

"So, this is . . . ." Caleb sprinkled the salt on the table.

He excelled in explaining things in a simplistic manner even though he knew the correct terminology. Dean was mechanical by nature, knew how to put things together and take them apart, and people knew this, but he didn't want too much else to show through. "A new delivery system. Fire the rock salt through a rifle."

"Pretty cool, Deuce." He jostled Dean's shoulder. "Is it going to work?"

He closed up the box, and tucked it under his arm. "Yeah, maybe, soon, I just have to get the consistency right."

"Mac always writes about his latest discoveries in medical journals to get the word out. You make this work; this could be right up there with the polio vaccine." Caleb lifted his hand over his head.

Dean frowned. He appreciated the accolades from Reaves. "For what, twenty or thirty deranged individuals who believe that things that go bump in the night are real?"

Caleb snorted. "You have a point. But still, Mac'll be jealous. He always thinks he's the famous one in The Brotherhood."

Dean tried to deflect attention. He knew his position within The Brotherhood and his family. He was a hunter, Sam's former protector and nothing more. "What did you buy for dinner?"

Caleb thankfully played along. "Hungry Man specials."

"Damn, those things never heat up right. You should have gone for the Lean Cuisine."

Reaves fished through the bags and picked one of the meals, dropped it and watched it clatter against the table. "We can always go to the restaurant next door."

Dean took in a deep breath. He could practically smell the steak he was planning on ordering. "That sounds better." And with Caleb on a hunt one thing was for certain. "You paying?"

Caleb rolled his eyes. "I swear you Winchesters just call me to go on hunts so you can eat."

The two hunters spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing, not much research could be accomplished on a Saturday with all public buildings closed. In addition, they expected a late night, and it was better to go in rested.

The restaurant next door wanted to give them outside seating, but Caleb convinced them he was very satisfied with seats at the indoor bar.

The bar happened to be the farthest away from water. Dean didn't criticize the choice or tease his friend.

They placed their orders, Caleb ordering the surf and turf while Dean went for the New York Strip Steak. The bartender brought their beers, and Dean thought it was the perfect opportunity to do some research.

"Hey, what do you know about The Dollhouse?"

The bartender came in closer so the other nearby patrons couldn't hear. "The girls aren't rough looking like they can be at some other places. It's a good scene."

Caleb took a drink, and picked up on what Dean was doing. With Sam it was always about typical research at libraries and city halls. "Been there long?"

"I've been here two years; it's been there about a year, I guess." The bartender answered, and left them for a moment as a waitress came by with a drink order.

When he finished and over their meal they continued the questioning, "Have any connections there? Can you help a brother out?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Don't I wish." The bartender said as he mixed a dirty martini. Dean grimaced at the olive juice. "The bartenders next door and us are tight, help each other out, but that's about it."

Caleb rubbed his chin. "What about the owners?"

"Supposedly, it's owned by a chick. . ." The bartender let the answer trail off.

Feeling as though they had received enough information, and their meal long since finished, it was time to go to The Dollhouse.

The drive over was punctuated by Metallica's hard rock rhythms. Dean lowered the volume. "About Dad bailing on us. . ." Dean shook his head at his words. The conversation sounded eerily similar to those he would have with Sam. "He wouldn't have left if he thought you couldn't handle this."

Reaves grunted. "A good job, Kid, would have been fine."

"You know my dad-he's no talk, all action." Dean put the volume up. Sam had the same issue, wishing their father would be more talkative.

They entered the parking lot, and Dean maneuvered the Impala to the back lot. He cut the engine and the two hunters got out of the car.

Their identification was checked at the door, and the rope removed to allow them entrance. Caleb leaned into the bouncer. "I'm looking for Eleni."

The bouncer gave a nod of acknowledgement. "She's up in an hour."

Reaves went into his pocket, and pressed a twenty in the man's hand. "Tell her Caleb's here when you get a chance."

"Will do."

They entered the club to pulsating lights, making it impossible to see the patrons. Techno music blared as the men stayed awed by the stage and cages, watching the women dance. The place truly did look better in the dark, suddenly it was all about make believe and the sale of sex.

Dean pointed to the bar, unwilling to talk over the annoyingly throbbing beat. He noticed all the women behind the bar, and elbowed Caleb, who echoed his smirk. He turned to place his order, and was shocked.

"It's you." The girl from the beach was wiping down the counter in front of him. She was wearing a low cut tank top, her dark hair framing her face. He recalled her name immediately. "Airlea."

"Dean," she said with a gravely voice that appealed to Dean.

Caleb nudged his shoulder, and he wished the psychic would disappear.

"This is my friend Caleb." He made the introductions. "We met on the beach last night." Dean said to stake his claim, mark his territory.

Reaves smacked his lips. "That was fast."

Winchester rested his hand on his chest. "It's how I work."

While they were having their private conversation, Airlea brought two drinks. "Whiskey on the house."

"Whoa, you're a little fast too." Dean moved the drinks so they were in front of him. "He's a light weight."

Airlea winked at Caleb. "Doesn't look that way."

Dean watched as Caleb raked back his hair. He had recently cut it, and was constantly using his hands as a comb to give it a more disheveled appearance.

The younger hunter pushed the older man slightly. "This is an A and B conversation, C yourself out."

Caleb shook his head. "Competition keeps you on your A game."

Dean frowned. "I thought you wanted to find Eleni." He turned to the bartender. "He's looking for Eleni."

She cocked her head to the side, then gave a Mona Lisa smile. "Go the side over there; tell the den mother you want to see Eleni and that I sent you over."

"Thanks, appreciate it." Caleb gave a nod, and headed in the direction Airlea had pointed out.

With Reaves off on his errand, Winchester could concentrate on his latest conquest. She was beautiful, model beautiful in fact, which was probably why Caleb was interested too. She gestured to another bartender.

"Let's find ourselves a quiet corner." She wiped her hands on a towel.

Dean finished one of the whiskeys. "Don't you have to work?"

She again gave another tight smile. It was reserved, but sexy. Airlea had an air of mystery about her. "I own the place."

Dean was shocked. This was unexpected. This case was working out well-Caleb was meeting Eleni, and they had found the owner of the place. Dean felt smug and confident. They would solve this case quickly, and Caleb would cease his tortured soul imitation.

The den mother was not very motherly, more hot dominatrix and memorable. She sized Caleb up, gave him a nod and went to retrieve Eleni from the dressing room. Eleni had truly been honest when she described herself-voluptuous in all the right places, dark brown, long hair to her waist. She wore a slip dress, or it may have been just a slip.

Usually more suave and forthright, Caleb had to remember his persona of Midwestern, married man leaving his wife. "Hi, I'm Caleb…we…ahh….talked….over the internet?"

"Honey!" She exclaimed and threw herself at him in a body pressing hug. She gripped his hand, and he allowed himself to be led into a back room, behind glass doors. The club was completely visible through the doors, and the music still filtered in.

"I can't believe you're here. Has anyone told you how handsome you are?" Her hand flowed down the side of his face. "I want us to spend as much time together as possible. Tell me what you need?"

Caleb had to give it to Eleni, men would fall for the fantasy of someone fulfilling all their needs. It would be exciting and so different from the normal ho-hum. Involuntarily Caleb found his hands skimming her body, his hand on her leg. He hesitated.

He was getting a headache. Really, a poor excuse when a woman was rubbing herself on you, and you were practically horizontal. Caleb tried to ignore the headache as it continued to build. It wasn't a vision. This was different. But Reaves wanted to ignore it, and give into the other, more important throbbing.

The headache was starting to make him nauseous, and he broke their kiss. He took a deep breath.

"Something wrong?" She asked as her hand went to the zipper on his pants.

He squeezed his lips together. This could not be happening to him. Course he didn't know what exactly 'this' was. "Hey, sweetie, slow down."

She pouted for a moment. "I am here for you."

And Caleb did remember that he had a job to do. He was a hunter, eventually the next Knight of The Brotherhood. "I'm sorry. It's just my wife. . .I don't know. . .Have you met a lot of men on the internet?"

She raked a hand through his hair. "I'm not going to lie to you, but you're special. There's only you now."

The more her hands stroked his head, the greater the headache became. "Can I come back tomorrow?" He grabbed her hands. "I really want to get to know you." He really wanted to figure out what she was doing to these men.

She gave him a few feathery kisses, until he stood up. She escorted him out of the private room.

He was unable to find Dean right away. He went to the bar and looked for Airlea, the friendly bartender. It was difficult to talk to the current bartender over the music. She pointed to a corner to the left of the bar.

Dean and Airlea had continued on where Caleb had left off, a total jean on jean make out session. Reaves stepped closer, a looming presence over the couple. "Deuce, let's go."

Dean must have sensed Caleb's presence as he broke momentarily away from Airlea. "In a minute."

Caleb crossed his arms. He still had a headache, and wanted some air.

"One sec." And Dean lifted his hand to wave Caleb away.

Reaves shook his head, and placed his hand on Winchester's shoulder. "Now."

Airlea broke off her kiss.

Dean glared at the psychic. "Killjoy."

"You can stay," Airlea said to Dean, moving closer to Dean once more.

Caleb pulled the other hunter up forcibly. Dean wrestled his arm away from Caleb.

"She asked me to stay and it really sounds like a good idea to me. I want to stay." Dean weaved back to sitting down next to the bartender once more.

Caleb yanked Dean's arm, grabbing the younger by the belt loops and propelling him forward. "We'll be back tomorrow." He told the woman.

"Promise?" She purred.

Caleb swallowed as his headache flared once more. "Yes."

Dean tried to get away from him again as they walked through the hallway on the way out.

"I'm going back."

"No." Caleb blocked the path. This was getting tiresome. "Tomorrow night, Deuce. She'll still be there."

The fresh air immediately helped the psychic's headache. He felt better, even in the humid air, and the hint of ocean scent. He still had to keep a guiding hand on Dean. "Do you want me to drive?"

Dean frowned. "Nah, I'll do it." He shrugged off the grip. "Lemme go, Damien."

The younger hunter opened the car door. "Can you believe that. . .Wow." Dean looked back at The Dollhouse, and finally placed the key in the ignition. Metallica came out of the speakers, picking up where it had left off.

"Yeah, she was hot. Can we go home now?" Caleb rubbed his forehead.

"What's the matter?" Dean pulled away from the strip club onto the main road.

Caleb opened the car window. The pressure was lessening. "I have a headache."

Dean snorted. "You know sometimes this happens to men your age…"

Reaves had leaned his head against the headrest and turned to glare at Dean. "No."

Dean laughed. "Nothing to be ashamed of. . ."

"No." Caleb did not like the insult. He was in his thirties, not ancient, and little Caleb worked just fine.

Dean ceased the teasing. "So, you find anything out?"

"Eleni is good at what she does. Don't know what she does exactly…but it'll be fun finding out." They would have to spend tomorrow putting together their clues, and see where it led. "So did you and your new best friend talk?"

Dean lifted his eyebrows up and down. "Airlea owns the place."


	4. Chapter 4

Title: In the Mouth of the Rat

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: See Part 1

Notes: Thank you for all the kind reviews. I truly appreciate them. So, I will be away for a few days--all good and happy stuff. Hopefully, I will post the next part on Sunday, but just in case, I figured a bonus was in order. Enjoy..still getting deeper into the story. Ohh, and don't forget to send you brother cards! And also I put a picture of Alison on the hunterstomb website.

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Part 4

Dean awoke with a relaxing stretch. He picked the master bedroom with the view of the Atlantic Ocean. The sun came through the semi parted blinds where he could also see the blueness of the water.

His fingers fell on his lips. He had to see Airlea again tonight. There was just something about her. He started humming something nondescript, a medley more than anything. He made his way downstairs with a bounce in his step. Caleb was already awake, clippings in front of him, a mug of coffee in hand.

"Hey," Dean announced, sniffing the air for breakfast.

"Waffles in the freezer," Caleb commented, still standing over the table.

Dean opened the freezer and found the Eggo waffles. He took out four and placed them in the toaster. He opened a few of the cabinets looking for the syrup.

"I left it on the kitchen counter by the sink."

Dean sighed. "Dude, use your words." He hated being read on simple matters.

"I'm not reading you." Caleb looked up. Dean wondered if he had gone to sleep at all. "I used my hunter skills—you usually wake up hungry and you like an obscene amount of syrup on your waffles."

Dean grimaced. He spent too much time with Caleb, the older hunter knew him too well.

The waffles popped out of the toaster, Dean filled his plate, poured on the syrup and balanced a cup of coffee. He ate leaning against the counter, noting the papers Caleb had laid out. "You figure anything out?"

"There are these guys," Reaves pointed to a few photos, "who left their wives and were never heard from again. These are the ones related to The Dollhouse, and this is the one we know is dead."

Dean shook his head, finished eating the waffles and licked his lips. "So, not a thing."

"No, not really." Caleb rinsed out his coffee mug and placed it in the dish drainer. "We don't know what they are. I thought succubus…."

Dean stepped away from the counter, felt heat rise to his face. "Airlea is not a succubus."

Caleb picked up the photo of the man found on the beach. "This guy does not look like a man in his thirties. He just shriveled up and died."

And Dean didn't know why he felt the flare of anger. He returned to leaning against the counter. "Just one guy." He smirked, bringing levity back into the room. "Really, what's so bad about getting some before you die?"

Caleb raked a hand through his hair. "Yeah, it's the way I want to go."

"What? No going out guns blazing?" Dean grinned. They had this particular conversation before. They wanted a meaningful death.

Reaves placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Have I not taught you anything, Deuce? Who says both are not possible?"

And Dean realized his friend had a point.

"Back to the conversation. Eleni, Airlea, who knows, but they could be succubi." Caleb put his hand up to silence Dean. "Ronald Byrne died and it looks like someone drew energy from him, aging him. That's what succubus do."

"I know that, Damien." Dean bit out. He didn't need the lesson.

"Right. And there are other men missing. . . "

Dean interrupted. "Yeah, but succubi also visit men, and these men go to them. . ."

"I know that, Deuce." Caleb mimicked Dean's answer. "I think we should try to find out if these guys all ended up here." Reaves held up the photos of the missing men. "While you clean up, I'm going to make some phone calls."

Dean didn't like being dismissed, but a shower and some space were needed.

Caleb picked up the notes he had made earlier in the morning, listing the names of the men and their wives. He called the exes, asking if they had a last known address or phone number of their missing husbands. The ones he was able to get on the phone were more than forthcoming. They were trying, in anyway, to get revenge, and Caleb was a perfect tool. They were hoping they were going to get their husbands into trouble, and many of them asked Caleb to throw in a couple of extra punches. Reaves was reminded of the adage about a women scorned.

Three had supplied phone numbers and last known addresses, which happened to be located in the area- Pompano Beach, Fort Lauderdale and Delray Beach. He called each of them, one didn't answer the phone, he left a message for the other and he had the last one, Jason Quinlan, on the phone as Dean came down the stairs.

"Mr. Quinlan, your wife Michelle has stated that you are in need of funds. I'm friends with her divorce attorney in Illinois and she asked that I meet with you and give you some money." Caleb said into the phone while pulling out his wallet, and looked through how much he could spare.

Dean smothered a laugh, and crossed his arms.

"Shelley's really going to give me some money?"

Reaves held up three one hundred dollar bills to show Winchester. "Not much."

Caleb took down the Jason's address.

"When will you learn you aren't supposed to use your own money to fund cons." Dean ran his hand through his hair and spiked it up some. It was still wet. Dean was wearing faded jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers instead of boots. Caleb was wearing jeans, and a button down shirt. It was strange how normal they looked, and yet knew more than normal people.

"Yeah, well. . .Mac. . .." Caleb absentmindedly gestured with his hands. His adopted father did not like the seedy side of hunting, and did not approve of gaining money through fraud, poker or pool. Mackland tried to explain that John could have had normal employment and still pursued the supernatural. The boys would have had a stable and more nurturing upbringing. But John thought he would be unable to protect his sons from children services and demons if they remained in one place. "We need to head to Fort Lauderdale."

The better way to get to Fort Lauderdale was to enjoy the site and drive along the ocean. Caleb appreciated that Dean took the highway instead. They pulled up to a depilated motel, far from any view of the ocean. It was actually a place the Winchesters would not even consider staying. Caleb knocked on the door.

"Who is it?"

"Mr. Quinlan, I spoke to you earlier. . .your wife has decided to give you some money." Reaves announced as Winchester rocked on his heels.

The door opened a little, then a bit more to reveal an older man, white hair with a paunch and wrinkled features.

"Jason Quinlan?" Caleb frowned, and looked back at Dean.

The old man cleared his throat. "That's me."

Dean held up the picture. "You don't fit the description."

Jason licked his lips. "I told Shelley I was sick."

Caleb rubbed his forehead. "I thought you were 35."

"I am 35."

"Gee, Damien, in a few more years. . . " Dean commented.

Caleb ignored the younger hunter and the barbs at his age. He would get his revenge later. "How did this happen?"

Jason hunched his shoulders, dejected. "You won't believe me."

"Try us," Caleb replied.

The old man puckered his lips, studied both men through his cloudy eyes. "I can tell you over some food?"

"Sucker," Dean said out of the corner of his mouth.

There was a diner in walking distance. Jason ordered meatloaf, talking in between bites about his bodily aches. Finally, after going through all his sudden ailments he got to the reason why he had aged.

"I had an affair." He said as he took a sip of water. "I thought…Shelley and I …and I met her on the internet. Diana."

"Diana?" Caleb lifted an eyebrow. He had been dealing with Eleni, and Dean had met Airlea. Who was Diana?

"Dollhouse website?" Reaves questioned.

"Yeah, guess Shelley told you that." Jason blew his nose with the paper napkin.

"I came here, and met her. One month…best month of my life. She was hot- long brown hair, gray eyes. I don't know what happened." He said as he lifted his hands and studied them-brown spots, raised veins-all the signs of aging.

"So you just what? Woke up one day and noticed you were old?" Dean said with a skeptical tone.

"Pretty much."

"And Diana?" Caleb wondered what had happened to the girl.

"She set me up here, but I haven't seen her. Don't want to either. I want Shelley back." The old man wiped his eyes. "I made a mistake. Think she'll take me back? I don't want a divorce. . ."

"She sent this, so maybe that's a start." Caleb slipped him the envelope with three hundred dollars. He hated lying to the broken man, and didn't want to take away his hope. Maybe his wife would take him back, maybe not after the act of betrayal.

They walked Jason back to the seedy motel. They returned to the Impala and Dean's eyes glowed.

"We're going back there tonight-right?" Winchester started the engine.

"Did you not hear what the guy said?" Caleb replied in frustration. Honestly, he was thinking there should be women from The Brotherhood in the field. At least they would not fall under the spell of the beauties at The Dollhouse.

"I heard him. He said the chick's name was Diana. I like Airlea and you like Eleni. Makes me think that we have to spend some more time researching." Dean raised his eyebrows up and down.

Caleb shook his head. Thankfully, there was a plausible reason why they would not be going back, so he could avoid an argument with the younger hunter. "Dude, when was the last time you were laid? It's a moot point. It's Sunday. Day of rest, even for strippers. They're closed. You need to get a grip."

"Shut up," Dean replied.

During the drive over, Caleb had noticed something on the highway that Dean would be interested in. "We can go to the batting cages to get rid of your sexual frustration?"

Dean leaned back into the leather driver's seat. "Not the same."

Reaves didn't have to use his psychic ability to know the younger hunter wanted to go the batting cages. Caleb wondered when was the last time Dean had done anything baseball related. "But you're itching to go."

Dean turned the radio on, The Eagles picked up where it had left off. Then suddenly Dean snorted, laughed and shook his head.

Caleb frowned. Dean was going through a myriad of emotions, not allowing Caleb to be sole moody hunter. "What are you laughing at?"

Dean turned his head away from the road for a moment. "I was thinking about when Sam-" Dean narrowed his lips, smothering whatever he was going to say next.

"Why did you stop?" Caleb asked. They hadn't talked about Sam for awhile; Caleb followed Dean's lead, figuring it was too painful of a subject for the younger hunter.

"He's not here. Why talk about it? Can't tease him about it."

And Caleb knew it was supposed to be a joke, but it rang hollow. Caleb wanted to try to fill in the brotherly shoes, but would never be a replacement. "It's not like he's dead. It's okay to talk about him."

Dean glanced over to Caleb with skeptical, narrowed eyes. "I called him when he first left and went to voicemail. He didn't even stick around in New Mexico." Dean looked back to the road, disgusted. "Don't give me that look Damien.

"What look?" Caleb tried to school his features.

"That you feel sorry for me, man. I hate it. Why I don't talk about shit." Dean shifted his hands on the Impala's steering wheel.

Reaves sighed, finding himself at a loss for words. "He'll come around."

Dean snorted. "Another reason why I don't share-I don't want a positive spin on it either. It is what it is. I'm outta Sammy's life. I'll get over it."

Caleb flinched at the finality of the statement. Dean would never get over his brother leaving. Reaves had told Jim and Mac a long time ago they should have intervened with Dean. Dean should have pursued time away from his family, but that opportunity was gone.

Dean brushed off their disagreement easily at the batting cage. He purchased a glove to gain a better grip on the bat. He did ten at a standard pitch with a hard ball, and then had the speed increased to MLB level.

Caleb was impressed, Dean hadn't lost his touch, and there was a wistful expression as the bat made contact with the balls. They stayed there for awhile; Dean found himself the center of attention. Some grade school boys where in awe, and asked Dean for pointers. He was patient, and helped each one until finally he noticed the time and Caleb sitting on a bench, taking in the sun.

Dean waved and they both headed towards the Impala parked in the lot. "You hit like Fred Munster," Winchester commented, opening the door.

"Thanks." Caleb rolled his eyes. His talents lay in other places, not in a baseball diamond.

In the car Dean gave the older hunter a nod. "Hey, batting cages were a good idea." Dean paused as he was about to place the key in the ignition. "You know instead of staying at that swanky place on the beach we can check in somewhere, away from the beach, smack in the middle of the state if you want."

Caleb rubbed his jaw, pretending to contemplate the offer. He appreciated the gesture. "Don't think it isn't tempting, Deuce. But, I'm okay." Reaves glanced over, catching the expression on Dean's face as he started the engine. "Don't give me that look, man, the same you complained about earlier. It's irrational."

"Yep," the younger hunter agreed.

"Okay, Mr. Poster Child For Mental Health." Caleb slapped Dean in the stomach.

Dean grinned and rubbed his stomach.

The two hunters had a quiet evening, eating at the other nearby restaurant, then playing poker for a few hours before calling it a night.

Dean was up early in the morning, taking a run on the beach. He loved this new morning ritual, the sand kicking up as he ran, the sun warming his body, the sound of the waves and the smell of ocean. It was relaxing. He sprinted the last mile back, coming up the backstairs panting from the exertion.

He came through the sliding glass doors, stopping to hear if Caleb was up yet. Hearing no sound, he picked up his clothes and headed to the shower. When he came out of the shower there was the distinct smell of coffee in the air.

Caleb was sitting at the kitchen table, with a tumbler of clear liquid. The coffee in the carafe was untouched.

"Damn, that's a sight I haven't seen in a long time." Dean said as he went to the coffee machine, swishing the carafe before pouring himself a generous amount.

Reaves picked up the vodka bottle. "Yeah, well, I'm not driving anywhere."

Dean recognized Caleb was trying to get his nerves under control. "Why don't you try all that martial arts stuff?" Dean made crazy, hyper hand gestures simulating karate. "Mac paid for all those lessons to help you gain some balance."

Caleb gave a twisted grin. "Wouldn't want Mac's money to go to waste. It's a good idea, Deuce." The psychic pushed away the glass, and Dean dumped it in the sink.

"Why don't you go grab some breakfast, let me clean up and then we go to the coroner's office," Caleb suggested.

"Nothing I like better then seeing a dead body on a full stomach." Dean was already up the stairs going to get his sneakers. Caleb would do his Tai Chi, and gain some focus.

When Dean returned, Caleb was sitting on the white couch waiting, relaxed and dressed in a suit. Dean wished he had the patience to pursue martial arts. He had scoped out the location of the corners office. Caleb was going in, getting a copy of the reports and leaving.

Dean remained in the car, windows down with his head relaxed back and sunglasses firmly in place. A newspaper was in his lap, but the heat and sweat trickling down his wife beater made him feel languid.

Caleb returned, losing his tie as he walked. "Body has already been claimed and shipped back," Reaves said as he opened the car door. He lifted a manila folder up for Dean to see. "Coroner's report."

They returned to the house, and sat at the kitchen table, the cold air conditioner a comfort and necessity in the humid, summer heat.

"Died of a heart attack, not drowning." Caleb read the page, and passed it to Dean to review.

Dean reread the file, trying to come up with some answers, though he already had one in mind. He believed they were dealing with a succubus. A succubus was a demon who took the form of a beautiful female to seduce men with the climax literally being death of the victim. They hadn't come up against one, although Dean certainly dreamed about it, and this could be their first opportunity.

"Estimated age, 80, Jesus, this guy was like 31." Caleb tapped the sheet. "Says here they found a matchbook from a place called The Dollhouse." Reaves pointed to the place on the paper, which stated the name of the strip club as he handed it to Dean. "I don't think we should go back."

"Whaddya mean?" That got Dean's attention. He'd never known Caleb to back down from a fight.

Caleb focused his attention on the condensation on the Coke can, wiping down the can and rubbing the water in his palm. "We don't know what we're up against. These guys weren't in their 80s when this all started, and Jason didn't give us enough to go on."

"He's old what does he remember?" Dean frowned.

"Enough that I don't feel comfortable." Caleb retorted, taking a drink from the can as if emptying the soda was also finishing the conversation.

Dean stood up and shook the papers at his friend. "It's a succubus, and we know the name-Diana, that's what Jason said. We go back, ask the girls about someone named Diana, and we deal with it." Dean snorted. "Dude, a succubus, haven't you always wanted to come up against one of those?"

"They usually kill their victims, Deuce. How do you explain Jason?" Caleb raised a brow.

"Lucky." Dean smiled.

"Not so much." Caleb tossed the can from where he was sitting in the trash. "He's like 80. And the other guys they have been missing for awhile, whatever happens to them takes time. Dean, I don't know, I got this feeling when we were there. . ."

"Dude, we've never come across a succubus before. We have to go back for _research_. How are we going to figure this out if we don't go back?" Dean was proud of his logical argument.

The psychic shook his head. "But, Eleni is in on it somehow. Deuce, we should wait."

Dean could tell Caleb was going to be adamant. He played his trump card, and knew the results. "So, are you going to call up my dad and tell him we can't handle this job?"

Caleb sighed, and let his head dropped back. He closed his eyes for a moment.

Dean felt momentarily guilty. He never pushed Caleb, usually accepted the other hunter's instincts without question.

Reaves brought his head back up. "We can handle this job."

"Exactly." Dean gave his friend two thumbs up in excitement. He wanted to see Airlea again. "Look, we go back to the club, find this Diane chick, kill her and that's it. Plus we have some fun. Eleni was all over you. You do remember what fun is, Damien?"

"I invented fun, Deuce." Caleb rubbed the back of his neck.

"But I perfected it." Dean replied as he went to get another soda from the refrigerator.

"Not so fast," Caleb called out and Dean turned around. "You wanna play me, then I'm setting some ground rules."

"You noticed?" Dean winced.

"Threatening me with John Winchester? Pretty low, Deuce, but I'll let it pass, figuring you haven't been laid in awhile."

"What?" Dean was taken aback; shut the refrigerator door without getting his soda. He was being insulted.

Reaves ignored the younger hunter's indignation. "You stay in my sights the whole time. These women are dangerous."

"I like 'em that way."

"And no nookie nookie until this is over," Reaves added with a smile.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Damn, you sure you're not the one who's 80? Man, you reached 30 and it all went downhill." Dean figured since he had been offended, he may as well insult his friend.

Caleb rubbed the back of his neck. "I _reached_ 30, Deuce, and I expect you to."

Dean shrugged, happy someone had expectations for him to live that long. "You going to throw me a party at the Playboy Mansion?"

"You, me, Heff and a bevy of Playmates." Reaves sighed as if he was picturing the site.

"I'll look forward to it, Damien." Dean recalled his twenty fist birthday had been a blast with even seventeen year old Sam enjoying the illicit festivities. He hoped his brother would be present for the thirty landmark birthday too. "Stop worrying. That is definitely something worth living for."


	5. Chapter 5

In The Mouth Of The Rat

By: Tidia

Notes: As I thought, I had a great weekend but couldn't find the energy to post. I was in New York City for a special family event, surrounded by my four nephews. LOL! All I can say is that I have a lot of material for fics, and I totally forgot how incredibly adept my brother is at teasing. Thank you for the review and hope I answered all of them. Onto a bit of a warning: **sex**, nothing too blatant though and not slash!

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Part 5

Dean pulled into the Dollhouse parking lot, and hadn't stopped smiling since they left the house. He had annoyed Caleb to no end, asking since eight o'clock if they would be leaving soon.

They didn't leave until ten.

"Deuce, we can leave. I can call Josh. Hell, he can bring Ian and Fisher and they can figure this out." Caleb said, trying to tempt Dean to turning the car around. He had a bad feeling. "You always wanted to stick it to them-they'd be getting our sloppy seconds."

"Tempting, Damien. I haven't seen them in awhile and I want to keep it that way. You're never like this on a gig. You had a vision?"

"Nope, wish I did," Caleb stated and got out of the car, knowing there was no logical reason for them not to enter The Dollhouse. Dean was already a few steps ahead, the psychic caught up. "Dude, you are totally geeking out. It's embarrassing." Caleb elbowed Dean as they walked to the entrance.

"You're just jealous 'cause Airlea is hotter than Eleni." Dean shoved Caleb.

Caleb laughed. He loved the younger hunter's audacity. "Just remember I'm watching you." Reaves brought his fingers to his eyes and then pointed at Winchester.

They were waved in by the bouncer and went into the club, heading for the bar. The pulsating, techno music immediately greeted them. Another bartender offered to serve them, but Dean waved her off, pointing to Airlea.

"That's the den mother." Caleb pointed to the bartender who went to fetch Airlea. She was still wearing her dominatrix leather dress. Both Caleb and Dean leaned over the bar as they watched the leather clad bartender caress Airlea, letting her hand settle on Airlea's backside before whispering into her and gesturing to Dean and Caleb. It was erotic, and Caleb was convinced The Dollhouse knew how to sell sensuality. He was turned on, and a glance at Dean showed he was too.

Airlea made her way over, wearing a white tank top, jeans and a few thready silver necklaces. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. "Boys, welcome back." She got two glasses and pulled them beers.

Airlea placed the beers in front of them. Dean raised his mug. "Been looking forward to seeing you again."

Caleb stepped on Dean's foot. "Dean said you owned this place. Pretty much seen everyone come and go?" Reaves asked, trying to get some questions answered.

Airlea gave a tight lipped smile. "You could say that."

The psychic was leading to ask another question when he felt arms wrap around his torso. "You're making me wait for you." Eleni pouted, bringing her hand to his face and then drifting down his neck.

Caleb pulled Eleni in closer, his lips almost on hers. "Don't you know good things come to those who wait?"

Finally, Dean seemed to be able to control his ogling and remember they were there for a job. Caleb was relieved his friend was showing some sense. "A buddy of ours told us about this girl, supposedly worked here? Named Diana?"

"Hmm." Airlea gave a noncommittal shrug. "She works here, but not tonight."

Dean glanced at Caleb who was struggling to handle the aggressive Eleni. "So we'll have to come back to talk to her?"

"Sure, maybe tomorrow." Airlea replied, brushing her hand against Dean's arm.

"Tomorrow sounds good." Dean leaned in closer to be heard over the loud music, and smiled, watching as Airlea went to help another customer.

Reaves had finally grabbed both of Eleni's hand and held them to get her attention. He seemed to have lost Dean's focus to Airlea. The younger hunter was watching the bar owner's backside. "Can you tell us about her? She just start or something?"

"No, she's been around for awhile." Eleni made an over pronounced sad smile and jutted out her lower lip. "Why are you asking about her? Do you like her more than me?"

"No, I just heard about her because of my friend. Don't pout, Baby." Caleb released her hands and rubbed his hands down her arms.

"Come with me." Eleni grabbed his hand, and tried to pull him away from the bar area.

"Not right now." Caleb was trying to prolong private time with the stripper. He wanted as much information as possible, and Dean seemed to be enraptured. "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"I did." Eleni answered. "Now it's time I show you." She tugged Caleb's arm.

He had already garnered useless data from Eleni over email. He remembered her favorite color was purple and she liked puppies. Honestly, what more was there to know about her? That was what he usually knew about his dates. "Deuce," Caleb called out in a loud voice to get his friend's attention over the music. He seemed to be getting accustomed to the monotonous beat.

Dean turned and raised his glass to Caleb. "I know stay put, right in your sights. Got it."

Caleb allowed himself to be led to the back, glass enclosed, private room. He figured a quickie and then he'd be able to get Eleni's attention to ask her some more pertinent questions. The glass door swished open, and Eleni didn't wait for it to close as she pushed him against the wall. Caleb twisted so her back was against wall and he could look out, keeping an eye on Dean.

Eleni drew him in closer and plunged in for a heated kiss, tugging at his shirt, her hands up and down his torso.

Immediately, a stabbing pain shot through his head, making him wince. Panting, he brought a hand to his forehead and another on her chest to push her back.

"What's the matter?" She asked, but kept her hands on him. She didn't wait for an answer as she went to the button of his jeans.

"Nothing," he said, ignoring the spreading pain making stars appear before his eyes.

She was back on him with her tongue down his throat. Eleni was wearing a sequined bra top and matching hot pants. Caleb found the clasp, hidden by some sequins. The three clasps released, revealing her smooth breasts.

She lifted her arms up so he could admire them, but instead he shook his head.

"I think I'm going to be sick." Caleb swallowed at the sudden nausea. He wiped sweat from his fevered brow, his body unable to decide if he was hot or cold.

"What?" Eleni said with shock. "Relax," she cooed and massaged a small circle pattern on his back.

Caleb put his hand on the wall to steady himself. He looked out the glass, unable to see Dean. "Where's my friend?" He coughed, shrugged off Eleni's hand, finding it uncomfortable instead of soothing. He regained his breath. "Where's Dean?"

Eleni stepped back and fastened her bra once more. She pursed her lips and placed her hands on her hips. "Honey, I think you need to go home." She started to walk away from him.

He snatched his hand out and grabbed her forearm. He wrapped another arm around his stomach, feeling as though he had been slashed in the abdomen. "My friend-"

Eleni's nose flared. She shrugged off his arm. "Don't see him. He's probably tied up." She added with a giggle.

"That's what I'm afraid of. . ." He stumbled to the door, trying to stand upright, but only making it to a hunched over. "I'm gonna be sick," he said to no one in particular as the glass door swung open. The music became louder, and the strobe lights made his headache worse. He used the wall and tactile senses to make his way through the room. "Deuce?" he called out.

As he made his way through the main room, ignoring the other patrons and his body's failure, he found a difference in the structure of the door. He knew buildings, his degree in architecture making up for his lack of psychic abilities at the moment. There was a pocket door. He patted the wall, feeling for the latch.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Sugar," it was Eleni purring in his ear, "I can call you a cab; make sure you get home. . ."

Caleb ignored her, successful in finding the latch. He slid the door open. There was low, recessed lighting in the room, highlighting the deep blue hue of the two hundred square foot room. In the center of the room was a bed, Caleb could make out two shapes, a woman her dark hair, loose and flowing and someone else. "Deuce?" Caleb narrowed his eyes to try to discern if the other person was his friend, and also to minimize the exploding headache.

He was unsuccessful. Caleb fell to his knees; Eleni seemed to be pushing him down. As he came closer to the carpet he vomited, he tried to wipe his mouth or do something but instead he succumbed to darkness and crumpled to the floor.

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Caleb raised his arm to cover his eyes so the bright sunlight would not infiltrate any further. His arm against his forehead was causing beads of sweat to form at the point of contact. Reaves groaned in frustration as he just wanted to stay in bed a little while longer. But, it was too bright and warm; someone must have shut the air conditioning off and forgotten to pull down the shades.

"Argh!" Caleb opened his eyes. He bent his neck in confusion. He was lying down, staring at the interior roof of the Impala.

The heat was stifling. He noticed the windows were closed and he was in the front seat. The sun was shining through. He moved his tongue around in his mouth. He rubbed a hand down his face, assessing himself. He glanced down, and the top button of his jeans was undone. He wrinkled his nose as he smelled rancid smell of vomit.

It had been a horrible night.

He remembered Eleni, the promised hot sex, finding Dean and then passing out.

Humiliating and horrible.

Dean had evidently gotten them home, because Reaves could see the beach house looming ahead. They were in the driveway. Caleb deduced that the young hunter had left the psychic in the car while he caught up on his sleep. As soon as Reaves was able he was going to march up the stairs, go to Dean's room and kick his ass. Rules were to leave no man behind, which Caleb defined as being placed on a couch, at least, in an air conditioned home.

The thought of air conditioner twenty feet away got him moving. Caleb was surprised the keys were still in the ignition. It was unusual for Dean to be careless when it came to the Impala. With a relish Reaves snatched the keys out of the ignition. He made plans to hide the keys, wonderful revenge for leaving Caleb in a hot car to ripen in the sun.

Caleb pushed himself to a sitting position, looking out the front windshield, staying a minute to try to make sense of last night.

The strip club, Eleni, and getting sick were all connected. It had happened twice and no longer a coincidence. He smiled in relief. He had been slightly worried for 'Little Caleb,'

and that he was losing his touch especially where his protégé had been successful.

He then heard a low moan emanating from the backseat. Slowly, he turned his whole body around.

He frowned. Caleb got on his knees so that he was facing the backseat. The person lying across the street wore Dean's clothes-jeans, boots and a grey t-shirt. But the rest. . . Reaves squinted.

Damn, it was Dean.

"Deuce?" Caleb reached out and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, not wanting to touch the wrinkled arm.

Another moan and green eyes opened. It was a definite confirmation that this was in fact Dean.

The younger hunter, although that really didn't seem to be the right description at the moment, licked his lips. His eyes shifted to Caleb. "What happened?"

And Caleb didn't have an answer.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: In The Mouth of the Rat

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: See part 1

Notes: Thank you for the reviews and for those that mark this story on alerts. Truly, I am grateful. Also, I read Ridley's reviews and thanks for the nice beta words. Quick note about that-- That Darth Vader coin bank exists. My nephew has one, but he isn't excitable like Riley. So forging ahead on this story. . .

Part 6

Dean noticed Caleb's odd look. Dean moved his head, noticing he was in the backseat. "Sonofabitch. I think she drove the Impala!"

Caleb exhaled sharply. "Dude, that is the least of what she did."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked as he placed his arm over his eyes. The light was too bright. His arm felt weird against his eyes. The skin soft and mushy, he lifted his arm to get a better look. It wasn't his arm. Pale, spotted with large brown spots, and the skin seemed to be hanging slightly. He looked at his hand, and saw the same result. "Damien? What the hell?" Dean tried to get up, but Caleb placed a firm hand on his chest.

Dean grimaced at the additional weight on his chest, and Caleb released it.

"What do you remember?"

"I was having the time of my life. Karma Sutra, Playboy or whatever, what that girl could do. . ." Dean recalled something else. "Dude, did you watch?" He swore he had seen Caleb in the room. He hoped he was mistaken. That was awkward.

Reaves shook his head. "No, I ahhh walked in. . .looking for you. . .doesn't matter though. . ."

"Doesn't matter? Talk about an invasion of privacy, I mean. . ." Dean paused to catch his breath.

"I didn't see anything 'cause I passed out, but Deuce she did something to you." Caleb rubbed his forehead. "You're not lookin' so good."

"Whaddya mean?" Dean felt tired, achy and sore. Carefully he glanced down, and saw that all his parts were still there.

"Dean, remember that guy Jason?" Caleb looked directly in Dean's eyes.

It was unnerving for the younger hunter. "Yeah."

Caleb bit his lip. "You look like his older brother."

"What the?" Dean pushed himself up with effort, and looked in the rearview mirror. "I. . ." he stuttered. He didn't recognize himself, the wizened features, skin drooping around his jaw lines, marks on his face, and sagging eyelids. His hair had thinned out and was completely white.

"Deuce, we'll fix this. I promise. I'll figure it out and you'll be back to your old. . .I mean younger self."

Dean brought up a shaky hand to his face, feeling the wrinkles through his finger tips. His skin felt paper thin.

Caleb cocked his head to the side. "You sorta look like your dad. Don't think that's a good thing." Reaves smirked.

"Pfff," Dean responded. Dad wasn't eighty, but Dean appreciated the levity. "Nah, Sam does."

"I guess." The psychic rested his mouth against his fisted hand.

Dean shivered even though the car was stuffy. His stomach contracted, and he placed a hand around his abdomen. Reaves missed the motion, but Dean could not stifle the groan. "Damien, I'm not feeling so hot." It was an understatement. He felt like he was being split in half.

Caleb dropped his hand away from his mouth, and awkwardly reached out to Dean in between the seats. "Whoa, okay, easy. Let's get you outta of the car and into the house."

Dean nodded and closed his eyes. He felt Caleb's hands leave him, heard the backdoor open, and his friend's hands again providing assistance.

Dean allowed Caleb to pull him out of the car. He leaned against the hot Impala, and saw how his clothes were barely staying on his frame. His pants held up by his hip bones and belt on the last notch. His chest felt concave and hollow. He took in a sharp intake of breath, and his breathing was thrown off.

Caleb applied a firm grip on his shoulder. "Hey, hey, stay with me here. It's gonna be okay, Deuce. You hear me?"

Dean forced himself to slowly exhale from his nose to regain his composure. He took a step forward with Caleb's arm looped under for support.

In halting tempo they shuffled up the stairs, and then up another flight to the bedrooms. Exhausted, Dean collapsed into the mattress into yesterday morning's rumpled sheets.

The bed dipped, Caleb pulled off his boots, and they thumped to the wood floor. Dean wasn't comfortable in his current position, wasn't comfortable in his bony body. There was no layer between him and the mattress. He opened his eyes, and saw Caleb's worried look.

"I don't think aging all at once is a good idea." Dean looked at his hands, couldn't get over the spots and how the fine scars of old hunts were more pronounced.

Caleb's mouth tightened into a fine line. "Deuce, we need to call someone." Reaves leaned forward towards his knees, avoiding eye contact. "Your Dad?

Dean struggled to push himself up onto his elbows. "You're nuts—he'll ream you a new one."

Caleb snorted. He stood up, found the pillows and placed them against the headboard. He then assisted Dean so he was leaning against them.

It was softer, and his body reveled in the sensation. The cramping in his muscles eased. "Your Dad?" Dean asked his friend. Mac was a better choice than John.

The psychic's eyebrows rose. "You want a lecture on STDs?"

Caleb had a point. In addition, Mackland was a doctor and would try medical intervention before going after the women at The Dollhouse. "Bobby?"

"Yeah, but he's with your Dad. That's a no go."

Dean rubbed his head. He had momentarily forgotten that his dad had gone to help the other hunter. He tried to think of other hunters, and the names that came to mind were poor choices, ill trusted.

"Jim?" Caleb asked.

Dean shook his head. "No man, he already thinks I'm a fuck up who gets bitten by a trinket box." He recalled waking up in New York City with the pastor and other worried faces staring at him. "It was embarrassing."

Caleb squeezed his arm. "It's gotta be Jim." The psychic waited for Dean to accept the decision.

Dean rolled his eyes, but gave a nod. He would live through another round of embarrassment.

Caleb grinned. "Look old man, rest up, and I'll get this figured out."

"Old man?" Dean snorted, then coughed. His body felt incredibly weak, and yet he felt a tingling sensation he knew he shouldn't give in to.

"You got white hair." Caleb tugged at his own dark locks.

"It's distinguishing." He placed a hand on his head, feeling the wispy pieces. He then felt a stabbing pain. He was ignoring the calling and paying a price for it.

"How about I bring you some painkillers? Help you rest up."

Dean exhaled through his mouth. "That might be a good idea." He looked up at his friend. "You should knock me out."

"What aren't you telling me, Deuce? 'cause half-truths, and omissions are not working out well for us these days." Caleb narrowed his eyes.

Dean knew he was being read by the psychic, but stated what he was feeling. "I want to go back. She's calling me." It was Airlea's voice, making promises to him. She would make him stronger, able to do anything if only he would return to her when he felt better. It was tempting.

"You know she wants you so she can finish the job." Caleb sat down on the bed. Dean flinched under the scrutiny. Reaves looked away. "Damnit. I said we didn't have enough information. But. . ."

Dean knew Caleb's muttering was more self-directed. He was nervous with the responsibility. Caleb raked a hand through his hair. "You need a distraction."

"Morphine would be good." Dean stated. The drug would render him unconscious or too sleepy to want to act on the intentions being planted in his mind.

"I have to go and get it." Caleb agreed. He stood up again, glancing around the room. "Gotta be a radio station you like here."

Dean hid his smile by placing a hand over his mouth. Caleb didn't want to leave him, even to go to get his medical kit. The music would provide some entertainment and company.

Reaves rolled through the stations until a recognizable hard rock tune was found. "I'll be right back."

Dean listened to the song, and drifted on the guitar licks. He closed his eyes, and then fell asleep.

--------------------------------------------

Caleb was unsure about the morphine. It was a potent drug, and not supposed to be used on men who aged 60 years overnight. He also didn't know if it would quell Dean's mind.

But, it was a moot point. When he returned he found Dean asleep, softly snoring and body curled towards the radio. Reaves crept away, leaving the door slightly ajar in case Dean needed him and called out.

The psychic pulled out his cell phone, leaned against the door frame of his bedroom and then slid down, and sat on the floor. They needed reinforcements.

The real reason he couldn't call John was he refused to tell the man he could be losing another son. He dialed Jim's phone number from memory. Three rings later the pastor answered the phone with a warm hello.

"Jim, I'm sorry to bother you, but I, we, need your help." Caleb lightly knocked the back of his head against the door frame. It seemed like so many of his conversations lately were beginning with apologies.

_"Caleb, what's the matter? Are you still with John and Dean?"_

"John's with Bobby." Caleb leaned forward, almost resting his head on his bended knees. "Dean and I are working a job. Jim, Dean needs you. She did something to him."

_"What did she do, Caleb. I need as much information as possible if I can figure out how to help you. And who is she?"_

Reaves realized his brain and mouth had skipped ahead. "We're here in Florida. I had a lead on those on these women that are involved in the disappearance and death of some men. Then Dean went off with this girl, and I wasn't careful enough, and she did something to him, Jim. Dean looks like he's about eighty."

_"Eighty?"_

"Jim, I'm sorry. This is my fault." There wasn't more Caleb could say. He felt responsible. He was the one who started this hunt. He should have gone to help Bobby so John would still be here.

_"Somehow, my boy, I think there is more to it. Tell me where you are."_

"So, you're coming right?" Caleb needed the reassurance. He was an adult, had long been one, but he needed someone else to shoulder the responsibility and find a solution he was unable to see.

_"Of course. I have to help my boys. Stay strong my boy, stay strong."_

----------------------------------------

Dean blinked awake. It was light outside, although the blinds had been closed; Florida sun still was able to shine through, giving the bedroom a softening glow. It was later in the day, but Dean didn't know how much later. He assessed his body, as fragments of their current job filtered through his mind and he recalled the toll it had taken on him.

He felt lighter, not emotionally, but bodily. He could feel every thread of sinuous muscle. It seemed as if every past injury was haunting him with an ache or pain. If this was what old age was going to bring him, it was better his job led to a shorter life span.

Dean had slept against the propped pillows. He grinned when he saw Caleb had pulled in a chair from another room. A bottle, the same vodka one from earlier was by his feet. Caleb had hidden from his demons, but the house, and watching over Dean was taking its toll on the other hunter's psyche. The psychic was slumped, one arm resting in his lap, the other hanging almost touching the floor.

"Hitting the bottle again?" Dean asked in a normal tone, knowing it would rouse his friend.

Caleb straightened in his chair, and coughed. "What?" It came out gravelly and he cleared his throat.

Dean pointed to the bottle on the floor, and grimaced when he saw his bony arm. He hid it under the sheet.

Reaves picked up the bottle and placed it on the bureau. "I got booze, drugs," he gestured to the medical kit, "and rock and roll."

"What about the sex?" Dean continued to play along in normal mode.

Caleb snorted. "I think you know it's overrated." Reaves stood up so he was looming above the other hunter. "How ya feeling?"

"Better, I think." It was an honest answer. He had nothing to compare this particular situation with.

Caleb lowered the radio.

Dean shivered as he saw the shimmering form of Airlea before him, the same image of her stepping out of the inky water. She was calling to him, making it so tempting to reach out to her. He resisted, but noticed his hand twisting the sheet. "I still hear her." He wondered if this would pass. Jason hadn't mentioned this part of his transformation.

"You want some morphine?" Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose. "Go back to sleep? When you wake up Jim will be here."

Dean swallowed. It was tempting, but he wanted to fight this, ride it out. "Nah, not yet, just talk to me, man." Dean licked his lips to find a topic of conversation. "Dude, how are you feeling?"

Reaves snorted. "Deuce, I'm not the one who aged sixty years overnight."

Dean shook his head. The other hunter had aged a few years overnight. "You are the one who got sick-twice-every time we were in The Dollhouse." Dean loosened his hold on the sheet and pointed a finger at Caleb. "You couldn't seal the deal. You figure that out yet?"

Reaves sat down on the edge of the bed. "Sure, because I had plenty of time in between getting your ass inside here and watching over you to think about myself. Deuce, don't you know- it's all about you." Caleb grinned.

Dean had to laugh, somehow with Caleb around he became the center of attention, but it was not a place he was familiar within his own family dynamics. "Well, start thinking. You're going to have to come up against them, and barfing on them isn't going to work." And Dean didn't include himself, didn't know if he would win against Airlea in his current condition.

"When Jim get here, we'll get it all figured out." Caleb sat up again. "You want something to eat? Oatmeal? Prune juice?"

"Very funny."

"I thought so." Caleb fidgeted. "Seriously, you haven't eaten anything. I'll go fix you something."

Dean didn't reply, and his friend took that as an affirmative answer, or it was Caleb's belief that food was what Dean needed.

"Hey wait." Dean didn't want Caleb to leave. There was a murmuring calling to him, becoming clearer. The talking was keeping it at bay. And he still had something important to discuss. "Don't think about calling Sam." Dean looked away. "Even if I'm dying. . ."

Caleb's eyes blazed. "Stop."

Dean glanced up again. "I'm serious."

"I'm not making that asinine promise." Reaves stomped forward in one determined stride. "So what, make Sam feel guilty? That's not you, man."

Suddenly, Dean was confused. He had reasons for not wanting to tell Sam of his predicament. He didn't want to be pathetic or broken in front of Sam who always saw Dean at his weakest. He didn't want those reasons questioned. "Yeah…No"

"That's being spiteful and cruel."

Dean winced at the truth. "Maybe." And he felt his temper rising at having to provide justification. "But, he didn't even stick around the hospital in New Mexico." Dean reminded Caleb. "It's not like I haven't called him, feel like a dog kicked to the curb." He felt spent, and when Reaves sighed Dean waved him away.

Caleb backed out of the room, stopping first at the radio and putting the volume up again. Dean closed his eyes, hoping the next time he woke up it would all be a bad dream.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: In The Mouth Of The Rat

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: see part 1

Notes: Thank you for the reviews, and alerts! It really warms me. While I am posting this I am hard at work on my holiday fic. I wonder if I created a new subtitle- Old Dean!, but Jim is on the way and should help. . . .

Part 7

Caleb went down the stairs with a heavy weight on his shoulders. It was crushing. The sounds of the beach were amplified by people enjoying the day outside while he was inside, alone, watching over Dean.

Listening to his friend's breath, and in between those breaths Caleb would hear the gulls and waves crashing on the shore. He had grabbed the vodka to keep him company, and put him in enough of a stupor to ignore everything.

He wished his parents were alive; the longing increased threefold when he felt completely helpless. He thought about calling Mac, but knew he would put his father in a concerned panic.

He stared at the kitchen counter, trying to think of food, but New Mexico came to mind instead. Caleb had been there, dragged Sam into in fact, and gave the youngest Winchester a choice.

Sam chose Stanford.

Reaves felt responsible for helping to screw over Dean, and now all over again with an ill prepared hunt. He roughly opened the refrigerator door and set out to make a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He piled four on a plate, and grabbed the carton of milk.

He was about to grab two glasses when the doorbell rang. Caleb stretched out with his psychic ability and recognized the familiarity of Jim Murphy.

He ran to the door. "Jim!" He welcomed the man awkwardly with relief and the carton of milk.

Murphy cocked his head to one side. "Has Dean gotten worse?"

Reaves shook his head, and pulled the small duffle bag from Jim's arms. He wanted to hug the older man and get some sort of reassurance. "You pack light," he commented instead.

"I did missionary work, Caleb, and I really don't have many possessions." Jim replied as he entered the home. Jim always made the younger hunters feel free to ask questions and he would always answer, no matter how mundane the question. "How are you, Caleb?"

"Don't you want to see Dean. . ." Reaves tried to deflect the attention.

"You already confirmed he is stable. I want a moment with you."

Caleb shifted from foot to foot, noticing he still held the milk. He placed it on the kitchen counter near the sandwiches. "I screwed up everything. I shouldn't be here. I couldn't concentrate. . ."

The pastor lifted his hand up. "Caleb, stop. I always have a belief we are always where we should be. So explain to me where you think you should be?"

"Far away from here." Caleb bent his head, closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts for a moment. "Jim, my parents. . .when they. . .well, my dad he built this house on the beach. . ."

"I'm sorry, Caleb. I know the circumstances are difficult and I can understand how difficult this must be." Jim reached out and cupped the back of the younger hunter's neck. "Where's John?"

"He had to leave to help out Bobby." Caleb explained, and was surprised Jim had not been told. As The Guardian, it was Caleb's belief Jim would know the location of all the hunters.

"I see."

Reaves lifted his head, shrugging off the pastor's hand. "Jim, it's stupid. I need to get over it. The U.S. is surrounded by water. Hell, I love to build bridges over water. I just need to get past it."

Jim crossed his arms and rocked back and forth slightly. "When you figure it out Caleb I would love to know, and I am sure so would John. Do you realize he never goes to Lawrence, Kansas? Refuses to. And me? Emma has relatives in California. They are kind enough to invite me to visit, and I won't go." The pastor cleared his throat. "Don't downplay your humanity, Caleb, ever. We are all fragile. It is that fragility that allows us to empathize and help others."

Caleb appreciated the sentiment, the sense of camaraderie Jim was trying to encourage. Yet, had he not been distracted then Dean would not be in his current situation. "But, it's effecting the job."

Jim closed his eyes. "I think it was the enemy that did that," he said softly. "I'd like to see Dean now."

Caleb gave a curt nod, led the way up the stairs after grabbing the sandwiches and milk. "Ahh, I wasn't exaggerating, Jim. He looks eighty, maybe older. And he's a cranky sonofabitch too." The psychic was not going to reveal his and Dean's previous conversation about Sam.

Caleb had left Dean's bedroom door open. They walked in, and Dean had fallen back to sleep. Caleb looked at the sandwiches then Dean. He placed the sandwiches on the bureau and went to awaken his friend.

"Wait, Caleb," Jim stated. He had remained transfixed in the doorway. "When you told me. . .This wasn't what I pictured." He walked in, went to the bed, and bent lower to get a closer look.

Dean must have only been in a light sleep because he snorted awake. His hand went to his heart. "Jesus, Jim, way to give an old guy a heart attack."

Murphy stepped back, and Caleb rushed forward in concern. "Deuce, you okay?"

Dean laughed. "You should have seen your reactions! Of course I'm okay."

"Asshole," Reaves muttered, not finding any humor in Dean's predicament.

"Hey, you aren't supposed to say that in front of Jim." Dean added with a smug smile.

"Oh, my boy, he is uttering the sentiments I am only thinking at this moment," Jim replied as he lifted Dean's arm and studied it for a moment before softly setting it back down.

Dean hid the too thin arm under the covers once more.

"You better shut up and have a sandwich, and let us adults talk." Caleb brought the plate over, waited until Dean took the top sandwich.

Caleb watched as Dean opened the sandwich. "No marshmallow Fluff?"

Reaves decided to ignore the other hunter, the less attention paid to Dean, the more comfortable he would feel and the more likely he would eat. "We need to ask you something important." Reaves directed his comment to Murphy. "Jim, we need this to be a secret from John and Mac."

The pastor sighed, and looked heavenwards before settling back on Caleb. "I don't like keeping secrets from your fathers. They are important."

Dean took a bite of his sandwich. "But you are The Guardian-the head of The Brotherhood, a secret organization."

Caleb easily followed his friend's logic. "So, someone important does know, and we aren't really keeping a secret."

Jim shook his head. "Boys, simple things are best. Fine, as long as Dean turns back to his normal self."

Caleb didn't know if that meant Jim would be able to help Dean or keeping The Scholar and Knight unaware made the situation less complicated. But, he was happy Jim agreed.

"With you here, it'll be fine. I need something to wash this down with, Dude." Dean had eaten half of the sandwich.

Caleb poured a glass of milk and handed it to his friend. "Drink up, it does a body good." He noticed Dean seemed more hopeful. Jim always brought some kind of hope to the younger hunters-whether it was in words or actions, they knew he was on their side.

"If you don't mind?" Jim shut off the radio. "Tell me what happened from the beginning."

Reaves cleared his throat. "I found this connection between the Dollhouse and missing men, but didn't think it was anything supernatural at first. I exchanged some emails with Eleni."

"I would like to see them," Jim said.

"Me too," Dean added.

The emails were of a racy nature and not something for the pastor's eyes, and Dean knew it. "N-No, not a good idea Jim, not a good idea at all. I'll just summarize." Caleb stuttered, feeling heat rise to his face. Damn, he was embarrassed.

Dean snorted, and then coughed a few times.

"Deuce?" Caleb asked, looking at Dean and then at Jim.

"Just give me a minute man," Dean replied. He then rested back against the pillow and brought an arm over his eyes.

"Dean, we need to know what's happening." Jim said as he rested a hand on the top of Dean's head.

"I hear her again." Dean groaned. "Damn, she's giving me a headache."

"Hear her?" Jim frowned.

"The woman who did this to him wants to finish the job." Caleb glanced at the radio. "I'll turn the music back on, that seemed to help last time." Reaves had avoided giving the other morphine, but if need be it was ready.

They waited a few minutes, and Dean dropped his hand away from his eyes.

"Better?" Jim asked, then removed his hand. "Hmmm."

"Yeah, sorry about that." Dean kept his eyes focused on a spot on the wall, not meeting the other hunters' eyes.

"No, it's fine." Jim nodded at Caleb. "Can you continue?"

Reaves gave a hard look at the bedridden hunter. In Dean's aged state, Caleb was unable to discern if Dean had grown paler or not. "Then this body of a thirty year old washed up, but he wasn't close to thirty, more on the backside of eighty. No offense, Deuce." Reaves attempted to bring some levity to room, since it seemed as though Dean was realizing his frail state.

It worked. Dean smirked and gestured with his slightly crooked, arthritic middle finger.

Jim shook his head.

Caleb returned the smile. "You'll have to excuse him, he's senile."

"Let me get to the good part-I met Airlea on the beach." Dean continued the story. Caleb was happy the younger hunter didn't include the part where Caleb had a mental meltdown. "She's the one who did this." Dean gestured to his face.

"She lives locally?" Jim questioned as he pulled up the chair Caleb had abandoned earlier. Reaves had taken a seat on the corner of the bed.

"About 3 buildings down." Dean confirmed.

"Caleb, I think you will need to pay her a visit, but finish the story first." Jim stated, and Caleb recognized the pastor morphing into The Guardian, directing hunters in The Brotherhood.

"So we went to The Dollhouse . . ." Reaves picked up the story again, but was deterred by Winchester's interruption.

"Where Caleb almost barfed on his date, Eleni."

"You were ill?" Murphy studied the psychic. Caleb remained silent, Dean divulging the truth.

"Each time we went."

"Are you done?" Caleb flicked at Dean's covered foot.

Dean frowned, and moved his leg away. "Yeah, just wanted to make sure you didn't forget the important part."

Caleb thought about his next words. He would have to censor a lot, and then admit the truth. He plunged forward, "And to skip to the end I lost--."

Dean interrupted. "We got separated, and Airlea and I did the crazy monkey dance. . ."

"Crazy monkey dance?" Jim repeated the words slowly.

Caleb covered his mouth to hide the smirk, but then translated, "They had sex, and in the morning he was like this." He should be mad at Dean for taking the blame. Caleb was supposed to be watching Dean, not trying to have fun with Eleni.

"We think it is a succubus." Dean's voice was getting raspy again, causing Caleb to wonder if this was a preview of what would happen to Dean when he was old that his voice would become grainy. "Maybe more than one because Caleb couldn't perform with Eleni so we don't know. . ."

"Hey! I could so perform." Caleb resented the insult. "Maybe I was allergic to her perfume or something."

Jim raised his hands up. "Boys, that's enough." They both gave the pastor their attention. "And I don't believe they are succubi."

"Do you know what they are?" Caleb asked.

"I have an idea, but I would like you to confirm it by paying Airlea a visit."

"I'll get on it." Caleb answered, happy to have a direction and Jim supporting them. He knew he was the next Knight, accepted he would be giving orders, but taking orders allowed him to relinquish his burdens.

Dean pulled back the bedspread, and shifted his legs.

"What are you doing?" Caleb stood up, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Why you fill Jim in on your internet activities, I've got to hit the head, maybe take a shower too." Dean wavered slightly, but placed a firm, tenuous, thin hand on the headboard.

"No way."

"Damien, I am not wearing adult diapers. I can do this. Got to get out of bed sometime."

Jim came between them. "Caleb, you're tired. Get some rest, then plan your strategy to for tonight for your trip to Airlea's home. Report to me before you leave."

Caleb gave the pastor a salute, which Jim ignored.

"_I_ will escort Dean to the bathroom." Jim patted Dean's face. "And I will not complain about bearing your music while you get cleaned up."

"I'm not an invalid. I feel better." Dean whined. "What about minding your elders?"

"Yours is only a temporary situation." Jim affirmed.

And Caleb believed him, had hope Dean would be fine and he would be able to bear the sounds of ocean for a little while longer


	8. Chapter 8

In The Mouth Of The Rat

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: See part 1

Notes: Sorry this is late, but I have finished Christmas shopping (My sister and Ridley say I need to stop saying that). I wrapped and packaged today. Quite a job, but a good one. I hope you are all enjoying All is Well by Ridley. I will be finishing this fic mid-week and then start posting my holiday story next. In the meantime on with the show and a big reveal.

Part 8

Jim felt old. Normally, around the younger hunters he felt the exuberance of youth, still twenty-five in his mind. But, seeing Dean shuffle to the bathroom and move so slowly gave him pause.

The pastor gave the so-called younger hunter privacy. He went through the closets, noticing the owner of the home was a smaller man. He found a pair of sweat pants, a matching shirt and left it outside the bathroom door for Dean.

There was a radio inside the luxurious bathroom. Jim made sure it was on. He had a theory, Caleb's mission would more than likely confirm it.

Reaves was resting, Jim ordering him to his room since he looked like he was bordering on collapse. Although it was night, Caleb wouldn't be doing his investigation until much later.

He was angry at John for his sink or swim attitude to this hunt. He wished he hadn't promised the boys he would remain silent because it would be a perfect time for him to question The Knight about his ill attitude of late. The Brotherhood was losing John Winchester to his vengeful demon obsession.

Jim heard the shower shut off. "There are clothes outside the door," he announced.

The door opened a crack; Dean's aged hand slipped through and pulled the clothing inside with him.

Jim waited, looking outside the window to the scenic view beyond. There was an inky darkness, but the ocean was still distinct, the sound calming. At least to him.

Dean exited the bathroom, his body fully covered. The clothes fit better than the ones he had previously been wearing. His white, wispy hair was combed back neatly, still damp.

"I remembered the name of the condo complex. I took a run by it the other day. It's called The Fountain." Dean tried to take a normal stride forward, but quickly shortened its length.

Jim was about to offer a hand to the other hunter but decided against it. He saw the look of determination on Dean's face—he would manage. Dean hated to show weakness.

In the meantime, Jim called information and got the phone number for The Fountain's main office. He was connected to the security guard on desk duty who supplied Airlea's last name of Eliopolus and her unit number, 8A. He had told the guard he was a suitor wanting to arrange floral delivery.

"You lie with the best of them, Jim," Dean said, standing against the nearby bureau.

"It is an unfortunate need of the position. But, I try to do so sparingly."

"I won't tell." Dean pulled his shoulders back, trying to rid himself of his spine curvature. "I want to stay in this hunt."

Jim realized Dean didn't want to be left behind. His mother, Sam and occasionally his own father had gone away, leaving him alone. Jim reached out to Dean, lightly squeezed his shoulder, recognizing that Dean's body would bruise easily in its current state. "You just helped Caleb, and I'm sure more of your help will be needed before this is over."

"'cause I'm not useless, Jim. I know what it looks like."

The pastor kept his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I never said that, nor has it ever been insinuated that in the past or present." He worried about Dean's lack of self esteem. He wondered if he had even encouraged it in a way. Being broken made them all better hunters, or a damage psyche may have been a necessity to perform the job. He hoped there would not be any repercussions. "Since you proved to me you can be mobile, I suggest some time away from this room."

Dean looked down, then back up with a quick nod.

They ambled down the hallway, past Caleb's room. The door was closed.

"Caleb's had a rough time of it. He did good though, I'm the one that screwed up." Dean said as they passed the door.

Jim hoped the other hunter was sleeping. "When will you boys realize that I am not looking for someone to blame. It really doesn't matter." John Winchester had trained them to be accountable.

As soon as they were downstairs, Jim found another radio, setting it to the same station. He wished Dean liked softer music. "I don't know why you never cultivated an ear for classical music."

"Sorry, Jim, but Dad. . .surprised Sammy never …whatever." Dean waved a hand in front of his face.

Mackland and Jim decided to be tender footed around Dean when it came to Sam. There were fissures in Dean's heart. His heart was his greatest strength and weakness. With his strength, Dean managed since if Sam was happy and safe then Dean was happy. From all reports Sam was happy. His weakness, talking about Sam reminded him that his little brother was distant.

"Sam didn't have a connection to music like you, Dean. Although I remember a time when he kept singing a song when he was about 5. . ." It felt strange recalling the memory since Sam was in contact with no one, shunning them all. It should have been expected. They all encouraged Sam's inquisitive nature and the side effects were willfulness and independence. Mackland pushed all the young hunters to pursue a college education, to do both-hunt and retain some normalcy. But, Sam only wanted one focus- the normalcy of Stanford University.

"Kokomo by The Beach Boys, and blame Caleb for that one." Dean cleared his throat. "I think I'm kinda hungry."

Dean had diverted the conversation; Jim studied him for a moment. The pastor had learned through interfamily communication that Dean had been accepted to Louisiana State University on a baseball scholarship. Dean had never spoken of it, but Jim knew what Dean had based his decision on. Dean could go to school and hunt. Dean could not take care of Sam, John, hunt and go to school. Sam was a full-time job.

Jim wondered on many occasions what would happen if Sam didn't return to them. Jim had formed a Triad, Sam was a crucial part. He hoped when the time came Sam answered the call.

The call to The Brotherhood couldn't be ignored.

The silver ring was still on Dean's finger, a little loose, but it remained. Dean was steadfast, loyal, and looking at Jim with gratitude. "Thanks for putting up with us, Jim. You know you're like a father to us. Sounds funny saying that when I look like this."

Jim struggled for words. He had unconditional love for these boys. No matter what they did, he would love them, forgive them. His Emma would have been proud. "How about some scrambled eggs?"

"Sounds good." Dean took a seat at the kitchen table. "Jim, if anything goes wrong and I have to stay like this. . ."

"That won't happen, Dean," Jim replied with conviction. They couldn't lose Dean. He had scared them all in New York City, coming across a curse which infiltrated his mind. The pastor had found the solution then, he would find it now.

"But if it does. Forget about me. I mean it, Jim. Tell Dad I'm gone." Dean's eyes were cast downward.

"No. Ask me anything, Dean, but not that." Jim sighed, composed himself. With unconditional love for these boys came heartbreak, stunning moments of sacrifice, which scared him. "I just said I lie only when needed. This is not the case here. You'll be fine." He waited until Dean looked at him, and then gave him a quick nod.

There was no mention of Dean's suicide insinuation of earlier as they shared a meal, discussing recent hunts.

Jim was cleaning the kitchen when Caleb came down the stairs.

"Do you need help to bring him to bed?" Caleb said in a soft voice as he stood over the couch. He looked rested.

"No, he's fine where he is." Jim said folding the towel he was using to dry the dishes.

"He remembered the name of the complex, The Fountain, she's in unit number 8A. I expect by now Airlea is at work?"

Caleb spared a quick look at his watch. "Yeah, she should be at The Dollhouse."

"Very well." Jim said with a smile. "Be careful, and I expect you back shortly." The pastor had just given his blessing to a felony crime. His position as Guardian did have some strange moments.

------------

Caleb found an unsecured entrance on the first floor above the lobby, then made his way up the stairs to the eighth floor. There were no security cameras in the stairwell, as long as he avoided the rent-a-cop in the lobby and the elevator, then it would all go well.

He made it to the apartment, knocked first just in case, and received no answer. He made quick work of the simple lock, walked in, keeping the lights off. They weren't needed. Off the kitchen was the living and dining rooms. There was a soft blue glow. In one corner was a water feature, a soothing large fountain, a blue light arranged so it bounced off of the water and emanated throughout the room. Against another wall was a large fish tank, illuminated by a light inside the tank radiating a blue hue.

It was restful, slightly lulling. Caleb shook his head. He had a mission to complete.

The condominium had three bedrooms, two baths. There was evidence of three separate people living in the unit. He rifled through the draws, getting the idea from the wardrobe- Airlea had the master bedroom, another bedroom seemed to belong to Eleni. The occupant of the third bedroom was a mystery, but it was definitely a female inhabitant.

He noted the clothes all had a similar scent of salt water. He returned to the living room, noticing the personal photographs scattered on the two end tables, flanking the sofa. He picked up one of them- a photo of three women-Airlea, Eleni and a recognizable third women he had met at The Dollhouse.

"Son of a bitch."

It was the women he had described as the dominatrix. In the light of the picture he could see her long brown hair and gray eyes.

He looked at the other photos, the three women, each taken at some sort of beach location. He slipped one of the framed photos into the messenger bag slung across his body.

He had a feeling he knew the name of the mysterious third woman.

Diana.

---------------------

Dean heard the murmurings of conversation, and stirred awake. He was on the couch, hadn't remembered falling asleep. It sucked getting old, especially when it was suddenly. He tried not to be upset with Jim for nixing his instant retirement idea. He thought he was being brave and taking care of his problem. But, Dean had seen that strange glint in the pastor's eyes. There would be no argument. Dean had to have faith in Jim and Caleb. He turned to the voices, waiting for his poorer vision to come into focus. "Hey, you're back. How did it go?" Caleb was relaxing in the kitchen with Jim.

"I got a parting gift." Reaves held up a frame.

Dean took it as a prompt he should move from the couch. It took a moment to get some leverage, but he made it to standing without assistance.

The two hunters waited patiently for him to reach the kitchen. Dean accepted the picture frame, narrowed his eyes. "She looks familiar."

"I was just telling Jim about her." Caleb took the picture back, and placed it on the table. "Jason, one of our victims, said Diana had long brown hair and gray eyes. Description matches this photo. I know The Dollhouse is dark, but this is definitely the woman who guards the entrance by the curtain. Except she wears more leather at the club."

Dean nodded, recalling the leather clad woman. She had slightly scared him in a thrilling way. "We can call Jason and have him confirm it."

"Sounds good," Caleb added.

Dean felt at least he was being productive, contributing to the hunt. "So Jim what do you think? What's going on? Succubi?"

Jim shook his head. "I know you boys believed you were dealing with a succubus but boys, succubus are solo creatures. They don't hunt in groups. You aren't dealing with a succubus."

"Explains why the plural of succubus is so weird," Dean commented, receiving a smirk from Caleb.

"So what else can suck the life out of a man?" Reaves asked, which was Dean's next question. He thought they had figured it out. But, on the other hand, his state was the reason they needed to call Jim. It hadn't been all that simple.

Jim paused, creating a theatrical moment. "Sirens-sophisticated ones at that."

"Huh? Like mermaids?" Caleb scratched the back of his neck.

"Where are the fins? Why are they on land?" Dean asked, trying to think of any knowledge he had about mermaids. It was limited to Disney, Hans Christian Andersen and porn.

Jim had a book on the table. Dean read the spine, The Odyssey. "I borrowed this from the library upstairs." The pastor flipped through the pages, and handed it to Caleb.

Reaves cleared his throat and began to read where Murphy pointed.

"'So far so good,' said she, when I had ended my story, 'and now pay attention to what I am about to tell you- heaven itself, indeed, will recall it to your recollection. First you will come to the Sirens who enchant all who come near them. If any one unwarily draws in too close and hears the singing of the Sirens, his wife and children will never welcome him home again, for they sit in a green field and warble him to death with the sweetness of their song. There is a great heap of dead men's bones lying all around, with the flesh still rotting off them. Therefore pass these Sirens by, and stop your men's ears with wax that none of them may hear; but if you like you can listen yourself, for you may get the men to bind you as you stand upright on a cross-piece half way up the mast, and they must lash the rope's ends to the mast itself, that you may have the pleasure of listening. If you beg and pray the men to unloose you, then they must bind you faster."

"You two are not tying me up." Dean straightened up in the chair, ready to fight the two hunters off if need be.

"Wait, the sirens use music. The radio has been helping Deuce." Caleb commented, looking at the Pastor. Dean was curious too.

"There are two stories of men resisting the sounds of the sirens. In the Odyssey, the ship passed through by plugging their ears with wax. One of the sirens, Parthenope, in grief at the escape of Ulysses drowned herself. The other is Jason and the Argonauts were saved because they had Orpheus, a musician, on board with them. He played music that was even more beautiful so the men hardly heard the sound of the Sirens." Jim gestured to the radio, which remained on.

"Led Zeppelin rules!" Dean waived a hand in the air, getting his arm only halfway up before a burning ache made him bring it back down.

"From what you described, I think whatever music they are using at the club is an element." Jim rubbed his chin. "But, I will say you boys do find yourself in the thick of it. I would never think sirens would use the internet to get their prey."

"And what about Airlea calling out to Dean?"

"A side effect of the process. Since Jason didn't mention it then I assume the effect disappears over time."

"Well you know Jim we relish a challenge." Caleb put out his fist to Dean, who gave it a slight tap with his own. "So why do I get sick at The Dollhouse?"

Jim took the book back, and placed a hand over the cover. "I gave that some thought, and without contacting your father, I believe it is your psychic ability interfering with the sound they are emitting."

"We can't tell Mac," Caleb stated.

Dean knew Jim would keep their secret, understood Caleb's nervousness. At times Mackland could be overprotective. "So sirens, they are near the ocean, but don't they live in the water? How are they on land?"

"There is the legend that Demeter, the goddess of harvest and fertility, turned the water sirens into the half-woman, half-bird creatures when the three failed to save Demeter's daughter, Persephone from being kidnapped by Hades." Jim explained.

"So they can change their form."

Dean followed Caleb's line of thinking. They were getting a crash course in sirens, learning the fairytales of attractive women with fishtails wearing shell bras wasn't necessarily true. "Maybe they just need access to the water."

"And they have that." Caleb's eyes flicked up to the ocean view seen through the sliding glass doors.

"And you know this off the top of your head," Dean remarked, truly in awe of the pastor's knowledge.

Jim folded his hands. "Boys, I am The Guardian."

"And the question is do you know how to destroy them and bring me back to my oh so charming and young self?" Dean asked because it was priority. The information about the sirens was only helpful if it rectified his situation.

"But of course," Jim answered with a smile.

"And that's why he's paid the big bucks." Dean gestured to Jim as he grinned at Caleb.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: In The Mouth Of The Rat

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: See Part 1

Notes: If you would like to read a fic about sirens, check out Wyswag's Hear Her Calling. Thank you for all the kind reviews, I tried to use some suggestions. This is the last part, and I thank Ridley for getting me here. I hope you are all enjoying All Is Well. My holiday fic, God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman will be posted soon!

Part 9

Pastor Jim had a plan, and put everyone to work. Dean knew he was assigned the easy work. He called Jason, the earlier victim. He faxed a photo of the three women to the motel office where Jason was staying and he confirmed the unknown woman was in fact Diana.

Dean made further arrangements with Jason. Caleb had to go to the local Target to pick up some supplies, he would also fetch Jason. The transformed man needed to be present in order to return to his younger self.

He also set up a courier services to invite Airlea and her crew to a private party in their honor. The invitation would definitely get a reaction.

Caleb had already left, leaving Dean alone with Jim. Dean was still insecure, maybe it came with age. He felt he would be a hindrance and needed reassurance. He couldn't help asking, "I'm coming-right?"

"Of course," Jim said without looking up from the printouts Caleb had given him of the schematics of The Dollhouse.

"Just checking," Dean nodded, glancing down at his clothes. He decided he needed to change, at least into his own sweats. He was uncomfortable in another person's clothes, especially these clothes.

By the time he returned downstairs, Caleb had returned with Jason.

"And here's the rest of the cast of Cocoon. You remember my friend, Dean," Reaves pointed to Dean.

Dean ignored Caleb's poor 80's movie joke, and waved at Jason.

Jason's eyes widened. "Wha-wha-what happened to you?"

"Same thing." Dean sighed, and made his way over. It was strange to be with Jason, looking so old and decrepit. It made him understand Caleb's and Jim's reactions.

"Diana?" Jason questioned, his voice cracked.

Dean shook his head. "Nope, Airlea."

Jason made a clicking noise with his mouth. He then stared at Jim. "Him too?"

Jim stared down the other man through his reading glasses. "Pardon me?"

Dean snorted. Jason assumed the pastor was also one of the siren's victims. "This is Pastor Jim. He's a friend. He's always been that old." Dean winced at his poor choice of words.

"What?" Jim said sharply.

"You know what I mean," Dean retorted. To the best of his recollection Jim always had gray hair, and over the last few years it had grown whiter.

Jim was kind enough to let the issue go, and they got into the Impala. Dean tried to be gracious about sitting in the backseat, but was uncomfortable with Caleb driving his car. He fidgeted.

"You have a bit of the sciatica, don't you?" Jason said, pointed to Dean's leg.

He had been experiencing a sharp pain in his hip, which radiated down his leg. "Is that what that is?"

"Yep, and don't get me started on my prostrate." Jason rolled his eyes. Dean thought he was going to explain further, but Caleb interrupted.

"Do. Not. Go. There."

Jim laughed, then chuckled and then starting laughing again before he brought himself under control.

They reached The Dollhouse with plenty of daylight remaining. Jason rubbed his chin.

"I still don't understand why we came here."

Caleb opened the back door. "You'll have to wait and see." Reaves brought up the rear, while Jim took the lead.

They watched in awe as Jim picked the lock. They had rarely seen Jim in action. When they did, it was being in the presence of a master.

"Boys, I don't understand what you see in this establishment." Jim covered his nose.

Dean didn't notice any particular scent.

"Jim, it's not the décor, it's the entertainment." Caleb replied as he deposited his duffle on the bar.

Dean and Jason settled in one of the booths and watched the hunters. Jim set up three radios with different music playing out of each one. Dean had made some tapes—classical for Jim, rock for him and top forty crap for Caleb.

Reaves held three bottles of kerosene. "You gonna help or sit on your old ass?"

Dean was happy to oblige. Caleb took two of the bottles and Dean handled one, squirting the carpet in a haphazard manner.

"Gentlemen, our guests have arrived." Jim announced as he walked into the main room from his perch at the front door.

"They're early." Caleb replied.

It wasn't unexpected. The sirens probably thought they would gain an advantage, beat the hunters to The Dollhouse. But, the sirens already had home court advantage. "Guess they didn't like me defacing their photo," Dean commented with a smirk,

"What did you do?" Caleb asked as he checked his shoulder holster once more.

"Put a mustache on Diana. Devil horns and beard on Airlea and dog ears on Eleni."

Caleb and Dean shared a laugh before the sirens interrupted.

"Boys, what do you think you're doing?" Airlea was in the lead, the other two, Diana and Eleni flanked her. "Did you miss me?"

Dean felt anger towards Airlea, for taking away his youth. She had used her feminine wiles against him. There were times when he allowed himself to be used, but this was not what he agreed to. "Making sure you can't go after anyone else."

"Go after?" Airlea lifted her arms up, and gracefully knotted her dark hair. It was mesmerizing. "They all came of their own free will. Even you, Dean. Didn't we have fun."

Dean swallowed, and tried to filter out her enticement, listening to the music on the radio to drown out her call.

"I know I did. I usually don't take all at once." Airlea took in a deep inhale. "But, I couldn't control myself. You know that." She winked at Dean. "Do you still hear me? Too bad it fades over time."

"Diana?" Jason said, and reached a hand out to her.

"Stop," Jim ordered. "Just listen to the music."

Caleb stepped forward, in front of Dean to block him. "Your mind control games won't work. He figured it out." Reaves gestured to Jim, who had a gun calmly resting at his side.

"Him?" Diana snorted, and rolled her eyes.

"He's The Guardian. Like the Pope, but cooler." Dean defended the older hunter. He earned respect a long time ago. "And he discovered a little of our music counteracts yours."

"The sound waves you send out, amplified by your techno music that was making me sick." Caleb smiled.

"You figured it out-smart and sexy," Eleni purred, and came to stand in front of Caleb. "I like that in a man." She brushed her fingers against his chest. She then gave a throaty chuckle. "No matter. We'll just move on, find another place."

Caleb grabbed her fingers and tightened his fist. Eleni struggled to pull away. "Wow confidence is sexy, but stupid isn't. We can't let you go."

Diana hissed as did Airlea. Their skins seemed to ripple with a luminescent blue-green color. Their faces contorted, became longer, their teeth turned sharp. "Let her go!"

Caleb did as was asked with a little shove at Eleni towards the other two.

Dean swallowed, realizing he had sex with a hideous creature, and Caleb was going to tease him.

"Deuce, tell me you used protection." Reaves said as he leveled his gun.

The teasing had already started. Dean brought his gun up from the holder he had loosely draped on his shoulder. His arms were weak so he kept it low.

The three sirens opened their mouths and screamed, an ungodly sound that had the three hunters and Jason stepping back. Then Jim started to shoot out the mirrors and glass. Caleb followed suit as did Dean.

This angered the sirens further, but their scream lessened. They began to attack more physically.

"Get to the door!" Jim called out. "Once we pass through, they are defeated!" He yelled as he shot at Diana, hitting her in the shoulder where white liquid poured from the wound.

Jason and Dean kept low, Dean taking haphazard shots, Caleb hovering over them.

Dean fumbled for his lighter, and tossed it on the kerosene soaked carpet. He had known things would happen quickly, but he hadn't realized how quickly.

They made it to the exit, Caleb trying to push them out, but Dean stayed his ground.

"JIM!" he yelled. Dean noticed smoke starting to fill up where they had just left. Caleb started forward, returning to find their mentor when they heard more gunfire then saw Jim running at them.

"Go boys!" Jim swept out his arms, forcing Caleb and Dean to go outside with him. They shut the doors, all three of them panting, and slipped the two by four through the door handles to barricade the door.

Dean felt the surge of adrenaline leave his body, his legs felt rubbery and he collapsed to the ground. Caleb and Jim each grabbed an arm, pulled him up and then dragged him towards the Impala. Jason was waiting for them, hunched over, with an arm over his stomach, a supporting hand on the trunk.

Then Dean noticed Jason's once white hair was now a dark brown.

Jim released Dean's arm, and the pastor helped to steady Jason.

Dean brought his free arm over his stomach. He felt nauseous and bent over.

"Deuce, what's going on?" Caleb asked. Dean couldn't answer him. "Jim?"

"Let's get them in the car. They're going to be fine." Jim answered. Dean allowed himself to be assisted into the backseat. They left the scene of the crime with smoke spewing from The Dollhouse, flames licking the roof.

Dean placed a hand over his eyes. He could feel his body filling, the hollow feeling dissipating. The pain lessened then dulled. He let his hand drop and looked at it. Gone were the wrinkles and age spots. It was a hand he recognized. Finally, with a sigh, echoed by Jason, he felt young again.

He looked at Jason, saw the transformation.

"Thank God," Jason uttered.

Dean met Caleb's eyes in the rearview mirror. "AHHH!" He mocked a shocked expression. "Dude, something went wrong."

Dean knew his friend was joking, but lifted his head so he could check his appearance. "Yeah, I got even more handsome."

They pulled up to the beach house. Dean was tapping his foot, wanting to get out of the backseat to walk around. He had energy he needed to burn.

Jason rubbed his forehead. "I don't want to know, do I?"

"No, not so much." Caleb turned around in the driver's seat.

"Buddy, go back to your wife." Dean advised. He stuck out his thumb towards the bus station.

"You should honor your vows, and your wife." Jim turned around from the passenger seat and gave the younger man a solemn nod.

Jason opened the car door. "Thanks for everything." He got out, and waved before shutting the car door.

"Stay away from internet porn!" Dean yelled out. "Sorry, Jim."

The pastor sighed audibly, and turned back around. "When I get back to the church my next sermon will be dedicated you two."

"Thanks, Jim," Dean answered, opening the car door, relishing the fresh, humid air. He was feeling renewed.

"The evils of lust and its manifestations," Jim added.

"That's going to be a crowd pleaser. You gonna give specific examples?" Caleb raised his eyebrows up and down.

Jim reached over and tapped the psychic on the face. "I'll be sure to mention your name."

"So Damien, we can pack up and be out of here in a few minutes. You good to go?" As much as Dean wanted to enjoy the beach, he knew his friend would want to leave.

"My stuff it all set, on the bed, in a duffle."

Dean didn't laugh. It was a heartbreaking situation, something Dean would never use against his friend. Friends and family were supposed to be blind to the weaknesses of their loved ones. "We can meet up with Dad," Dean suggested as he stepped out and luxuriously stretched out his body.

Dean didn't miss the quick glance Caleb gave to Jim. There had been a previous discussion concerning him.

"Deuce, I got some Tri Corp business in Arkansas. Why don't you come with? I'll give you a job on the crew, make some decent money and find some local hunting gigs?"

Jim cleared his throat. "Why don't you check in with your father? I'll keep Caleb company out here."

"Okay, I can grab your stuff too." Dean appreciated the privacy. He went up the stairs, then unlocked the door to the house. He left his cell phone on the kitchen counter. He looked at it, noticed there had been no new messages or missed calls.

Dean had started to notice over the last few months he was the one who initiated contact with his father. Dean had tested his father. If they weren't working a job together than a week would go by before he would check in with Dean and get his location.

Then there were the times when they were on a hunt, and he would send Dean ahead, just a day, then it stretched to three days on his own. Dean didn't want to question his father and distance him further. But, they weren't supposed to hunt alone, but that was happening. Dean figured John was trying to build independence in his son, thought he was too dependent on others. Dean accepted it, never commented about it, kept it a secret from Caleb and Jim since John wasn't encouraging those connections either.

Dean opened the phone and scrolled to his contact list. He was connected to his father's voicemail. "Hey, Dad, we're done with the job here," Dean paused, wanting to tell John about the sirens, but knowing his father wasn't interested. He also didn't want to admit they had called Jim. "So, I'm low on cash and Caleb said I could put some time in with Tri-Corp. Hunt up some stuff in Arkansas. Okay?" Dean winced. He wanted to make a confident statement, not a question. "Call me when you need me, umm. . ." Dean thought his father wouldn't call him in that case. "I'll touch base in three days if I haven't heard from you. Take care." Dean closed his phone, and went to gather his things from the bedroom.

This chapter was closed.

The End


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